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She sits in the corner of her life-less room . Her death black hair covers her eyes that show you her haunting past . She still hears the shrill scream . She remembers all the words .
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"I hate you!"
"Why are you still hear!"
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Those words are scars on her breaking heart ; scars that nobody sees . Her tears on her face scream out ,"help me." But nobody does . She feels like she is loosing a battle . The pen . The paper . The words trace ,"I'm sorry."The clock ticking . The rope . Her life . She's free .

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