My Secret

Yahwe Mutabo

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    scratch
    scratch
    scratch
    blood slowly starts to seep
    it seems to help

    perfect knife on ugly skin
    makes me forget the state I'm in
    but makes me remember
    the ache
    sharp and stinging scratch
    I forget my thoughts
    I know only my hurt
    the blood doesn't heal it
    only makes it worse
    but then I can finally feel it
    I can let myself be free
    from ideas of perfection
    of what I will never be

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    so when I put on my face in the morning
    nobody needs to know
    the ache and the blood
    are my secret
    I don't need to share
    the worst of the pain is loneliness
    but I like to think I don't care

    [yeah guys don't ask, i'm over it but it's still my secret ok?]

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