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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Emotional · #1279126
Why wouldn't you call me?




Give me a blade



make it sharp



sterilize it with alcohol



and I would draw you my pain



with each slice of the knife on my thigh



I will show you my pain



because you don't understand



the depths of my pain



you can't phantom how it feels inside my head



you have no idea how helpless I feel



but the knife does



the blade does it offers me relieve



release



the blade knows



Give me a blade



a pen knife



the razor on a broken sharpener



and I will trace my pain



because you really don't get it do you



you really dont understand



how the cut, the pain



the enkephalins and



endorphins coming to aid in sweet relieve



better than any street drug.



makes you do it again and again



So give me a blade



and let me make a map of every



crappy relationship



every man who felt I was a toy



to touch



to poke



to prod



to dominate



let me carve a map of male hatred



of bullshit



of hurt



and pain



and more



pain



Give me a blade



damnit



let me bleed.
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