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Nobody Understands Me

Another Uneeded Cut You Made

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I know you are gone,
I have accepted that,
But I still have scratches and bruises,
That you just keep jabbing at.
I'm gone out of your life,
Your new girlfriend has made sure of that.
I avoid seeing or speaking to you in the halls,
I need my time to let my wounds heal and all.
The few scratches I made before that had nothing to do with you,
They seem to be reopening every time you do the things you do.
My arm was healed,
No longer covered in marks,
The used to be red lines had finally faded to white,
But one morning I find they were torn open that night.
My heart was almost there,
Almost healed through and through,
But you cut me back open,
With the horrible things that you do.
The day before that night,
Seemed almost alright,
But it was those few little words you said later that night.
You never spoke a word,
You let her do the talking for you,
You just couldn't be a man,
And tell me the truth.
I smash an old mirror and find the best piece.
The best piece to help you with your rotten deed.
I can't hurt myself,
And I can't help, but know that I am,
You've broken my walls and taken my dam.
I lay in bed crying just holding the sharp piece of glass,
You've taken my mind, my body, and soul,
and have me do the deed that ends with a slash.
As I finally calm myself get myself in line,
I roll up my sleeve and hold nothing back.
I could never hurt myself,
But that doesn't mean you can't.
I watch as a third party.
My body sitting there with no tears in the eyes,
My hand griping the glass,
your hand over mine.
As I watch you cutting me,
Slowly hacking away at my arm,
I want to cry but my eyes are occupied.
The person on my bed,
the one wishing she was just dead,
was staring me down, her eyes locked on mine.
She was telling me I will be just fine.
It's just a few cuts, just scratches on your upper arm,
Theres nothing wrong, he is doing no harm.
If that is true then who,
Who are you?
Who are you to tell me everything is alright,
When my arm is all bloody and cut up from last night?
Who is this demon that lets him cut me to bits?
Who is this girl that gave up,
That caved in?
Who are you to decide what is harm and is not?
You fowl demon,
You are not,
When I wake to the sun shining greatly in my eyes,
I look down at my arm and begin to cry.
Once again I have cut,
Without telling myself so,
I've caused myself harm and I would never know.
The piece of glass lay lightly in my blood stained hand,
I walk to my box and put it away,
I will need it,
For another unneeded cut someday.

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