One is gentle, just to start,

Two's intent's to make a mark.

Three's for "ugly" and for "rude",

And for good measure, four is, too.

Five is for the lies I said,

Six is for who's in my bed.

Seven makes me cringe and gasp,

Eight is for the quiet rasp

That might alert my parents to

That which they told me not to do.

Nine's excessive,

Ten's a bore,

My skin stops screaming out for more.

I watch the blood that trickles down

My leg from where it is I've found

A peace of mind in pieces of

My skin, torn raw from lack of love.


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