Dear Diary

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thousand blood red roses, thorns as sharp as knives scratching up against the walls, rakeing up the lies forever held against a bush, trapped against there will,  they're all in pain but shining bright on the windows sill.  A thousand blood red roses,  tattooed on my wrist,  they cover up the scars I've made,  they never have been kissed.  I make the roses bloody,  i scratch the thorns on skin,  i never will be good enough,  ill always be a sin

I wrote in my diary once the boys left me alone,  it's true,  I have tattooed roses on my wrist but my sleeve has always covered it,  thankfully,  the boys would surely beat me if they knew.....

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