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Engraving on the hilt inlaid with gold Newly daubed with tar of flesh and bone A ruddy smearing on the blade Tearing ‘tween muscle, marrow A carving of the heart
Smooth wooden handle 6 inches, nearly 10 when flicked open to reveal stainless steel The blade marred only by a few oily fingerprints and a speck of brown   It smells of dust and of dried blood
       It starts out as a temporary fix. You tell yourself it won't happen again. All the emotions build up. The stress. The pain. The emptiness. Each thought. Each cut. Each stroke of the blade on the skin. An incision deeper then the last.
I once would take  to cutting and mark upon my skin. I know the thoughts haunt me and run over me in surprise. But nothing consumes my mind as much as your smile,  and the light behind your eyes.
10 days:No blade,no blood. 20 days:I'm tired,I'm sad,I want my blade. 30 days:I can't have my blade,I can't put a sharp object on my skin,am I finally clean?
If you should walk at night when The Moon wears her charcoal mask Hide under lamplight or you shall be Snatched away by the Crimson Flabbergast   A wraith forged of screaming shadows
Humans all participate in a simple task. It makes society easier, if we all wear a mask. Everyone possesing secerets, stories we choose to disguise. All carrying a fake persona, so they'll believe our lies.
No one knows the pain I'm in, so i'll show them No one sees my pain, until they have to sew them
It hit me one night on tumblr a blog i stumbled upon with a bio that sounded a LOT like my old best friend we never fell out our friendship never ended
she went in her room and shut the door
Like how only the sky can feel the lightning, thunder and rain only i know the feeling of empty loneliness the true distance between me and happiness only i can fake the smile and hide the tears
I don't understand. That's all I can say. It's my life you have banned! It's the same thing every single day...
I head up the stairs to my secret box under my bed my friend wasn't there, he was somewhere stray lead thinking that God is making a mockery of me till I spotted my trusty blade in deed
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