Without a doubt
she lays down on the bathroom floor,
feeling nothing anymore.
she swallows pills one by one,
anything to stop what’s begun.
her pupils grow. her vision blurs.
all that are coming out are slurs.
her heart rate rapidly picks up speed.
all she wants is to simply succeed.
thoughts float around in her brain,
“all it takes is one major vein.”
she reaches for her razor blade,
not quite done with the game she’s played.
cuts are made. words are carved.
she throws up despite the fact she’s starved.
the blood trickles on down her arm,
resulting from her own self-harm.
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