Monday, May 27, 2002


inescapable fear, growing.
all you can do is cry,
hope someone knows your tears.
hiding, silently recording the
self-inflicted pain - rushing water,
running blood.
everyone is so afraid of this story -
they see nothing but the scars, nothing
but the angry red gashes,
noncommittal nods.
gasps and displeasure.
but if i don't speak
when i'm well-bladed,
i seem almost

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