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The Blade/a poem
You don’t understand how the blade helps me mend. How my broken heart closes, when the knife cuts my skin.
The pain fades away, and the blood cleanses my sins, but only after the wounds does the healing really begin.
My damaged soul can rest after feeling the burning steel, and scabs cover the memories that I no longer want to feel.
Tears bring little comfort, but the knife takes me away, to a place of infinite peace, a place I long to stay.
I may carry scars, but they were all meant to be, they all tell the story of the anguish inside of me.
I am still alive, and I am still sane, and thanks to this knife, I have left behind the pain.