Down With A Sickness

I don't just cut myself.
I drink it.
I paint on my walls with it.
My cuts are deep and leave me with plenty of "paint."
I don't know why I do it, I know it's sick to smear my hands in my own blood,
to cover my walls in it.
I can't stop.
Sometimes, I just cut and cut and throw away my humanity.
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26-30
Sep 8, 2012