Cuts.
Hazzashiz
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- Parts 102
i drew a butterfly on my wrist,
in hopes that this feeling would no longer persist,
but things got bad and i started to cry,
so the butterfly on my wrist had to die.
once again i tried to set myself free,
but it seems my thoughts have stolen the key,
so this butterfly lived a short life,
killed with fear, and a very sharp knife.
-b.g
[lower case intended.]