RULE #31: Your wrist is not a paper, don't cut it

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Trigger warning: Depression and Self harm

𝑩𝒍𝒖𝒆 𝑪𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒊𝒈𝒂𝒏

Painful, ill-fated, silent yet so loud. That was an inauspicious night
Lights are slowly fading
Precious wrist became a piece of paper
Eyes suddenly turned putt to be a window with raindrops
But then she woke up the next day, with feeling of dismay

With a modicum amount of sleep
She stood up, prepared herself
She picked up her bag and held her books
On that day, she wore a cardigan — it was blue

Seated at the corner of the room, took a deep breath
Along with the world's noise, her mind whispers "no one has to no know"
No one has to know how cruel last night was,so she smiled, stood up and whispered " I am intrepid"

Until now, the blue cardigan conceals what has been made
Her smile hides a cruel back story
Her intrepidity deceives who to tries to read her
But her wrists are still a paper

Dear friends,

           She might tell herself no one has to     know, please try to let those be known.

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