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Each night is a struggle for life.

All I see is blood and knifes.

I want so much to tell someone,

of all the things that I have done.

Of all this pain that I feel.

Its almost as if its not even real.

I like to think that that is true,

as the blood drips to my shoe.

I wish to walk away from this.

But I can't forget whats on my wrist.

Each night is a struggle for life.

All I see is blood and knifes.