Glares of pain and anger,
sheltered in her broken heart.
Mistrust imbedded in her mind.
A razor blade,
her only escape.
A shallow fix to her troubles,
the blood dribbles down slowly,
her tears flow faster,
than her life-force
and she curses death,
for coming slowly.
She curses all who led
her here,
as she wonders about
the release that
death will surely bring.
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