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There are red lines on this blank canvas
Drawn on in red ink
They appear, every time I begin to sink
When, too deeply I think
When I'm on the edge
When I'm on the brink
The red begins to slowly drip..
The painter couldn't stop...
So they painted away, until the blade..
Suddenly dropped...
- by Realpolidik |
- Poetry And Lyrics
- | Submitted on 07/17/2014 |
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- Title: Red Lines
- Artist: Realpolidik
- Description:
- Date: 07/17/2014
- Tags: cutting depression metaphors hiddenmessage
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Comments (1 Comments)
- vanessaw14 - 09/20/2014
- this poem means a lot to me. I don't condone cutting at all simply because I used to do it. And now I know it was a stupid mistake that took a long time to undo. Please don't self harm. And if you already do, get help. Cutting isn't gonna help you get better. It'll just make you dependent on a blade or knife til you run out of space to cut
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