Doesn't it make you wish for death
Sitting there all depressed
Attempting to calm your breath
You inflict self-harm
Once you look down you see
The cuts all over your arm
Then you begin to think "What has become of me?"
But it's too late because you're addicted
As if you were affixed
In your head, you're mentally conflicted
All of your feelings are mixed
After very little thought you take your life
All this started with a cut of a knife
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