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To all the promises I made, and tried so hard to stay true to, but, in the end, they just became promises I couldn't keep.

fifty-three

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by decimrose

by decimrose

Life,

I would rather you do it.

You could make it quick.

I can't.

When I start to scratch lines on my wrist, it's like I can't stop.

I'm a madman.

I've thought about going straight up my arm.

Believe me, I have.

But I've made promises.

And those I intend to keep.