The line
Extends
White
Dissented
On her inner thigh
One of many
Like a fresh
Sheet of lined paper
Waiting for the writer
To begin her tale
Of woe
The scars
From her attempts
To focus
Her pain
Because it becomes
So all encompassing
That if she doesn't
Cut down deep enough
It won't stop
It won't ever end
And now
Her scars
Have prepared
An archive
For her to begin
Her letter
Of farewell
To life
Written in blood
On skin
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