The Rain On Monday

Written words are the only thing my mind can find ease in.

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57. Tried

“Cut yourself,” they said.

And so I did.

Their words stuck to me like superglue, and I failed every time I tried to pull them away.

“Starve yourself,” they said.

And so I did.

Their words bound chains around my hands and feet, and I failed every time I tried to runaway.

“Kill yourself,” they said.

And so I did.

Their words tied the noose around my neck, and finally their words went away.

 

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