Suddenly overwhelmed by a feeling,
that replaces the blood in my veins.
The blood that drips down my arms,
as the blade finishes its journey,
across fair, thin flesh
that hardly holds together,
as it is sliced
in a repeating pattern of line,
after line,
after line.

These were not the patterns
that I learned about,
in my younger years,
patterns of numbers and shapes.

These were pa...

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