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These are the things that you despise.
These are the things that you despise,
You hide the wounds, those scabs and scars,
They litter your legs, chest, feet and arms,
You wanted to stop but you just could not,
You promised yourself that there wouldn’t be a lot,
But now, now, you feel only disgust,
Telling others? How can you trust?
This secret is awful; they’d all hate you,
You look for others that hurt themselves too,
Only because you feel so alone,
And you know you can’t face this battle on your own.