The things I never say

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For these things I scribble are my way of expressing,
The things I'll never truly say.

I am scared,
Scared of my own existence.

And mundane things like fate and morals bore me,
My true capabilities are unknown.

Could I pull the trigger?
Could I push down on that knife?

Could I rip through my skin with that razor,
To see that scarlet so bright?

There are things I don't understand,
But remember this.

I know what it feels like,
To truly exist.

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