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Lately I have had the urge to draw - to write - make beauty in words or colours - but not in lines. This desire, I think, emerged out of surreality and inspiration for poetry
I go through the day, acting like its all okay. I try to go unnoticed. Try but fail.   Failing... Failing... Fail...   I strive to impress. Craving for their approval.
She can taste the blood in the corner of her mouth From when she was tripped during a struggle to the door The iron taste to accompany the scarred ford From when she “fell down the stairs” at the home of her “love”
CUT CUT At 15 i shared a story with my sisterOnly started sharing this same story recentlyShe would CUT CUT to mend her broken heart and so do IShe would CUT CUT and i would see the scars"what are you doing?" i askedShe turned around, hot tears bu
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