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The scars on her arms,
aren't as deep as the ones on her heart.
To have you say that to her,
just reopens the wounds.
To let her bleed out.
Nothing but what you say,
Circles through her thoughts,
As she lay dying,
on the bathroom floor.
Slowly bleeding out!
From the inside out!
Untill finally there's nothing left to give.
So because she hates living,
she's giving herself to the angels.