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by paige Dec 12, 2006 category : Sadness, depression / about depression
You thought you knew me, As you walked by. You took one glance, And never asked why. You saw the scars, That I tried to hide. But you never did try, You never asked why. Everyday I sit and cry, Alone in my room. I take out the razor, I make hundreds of cuts. The Blood drips and drips, I bleed crimson tears. The razor is my life, It helps keep me alive. Maybe I could quit, If someone only cared. Just enough to talk to me, And find out how and why.