As I hold the razor blade
I turn to my right
Slash! Slash!
On my knuckles
The most painful place
To inflict an injury
Peeling them like a potato
I cry.
Where is my medication?
I see it not
Do I have obsessive compulsive disorder?
Or am I just a compulsive liar?
Only I know
“I just want to die!”
I scream, scrubbing at the table
My purposefully plaited for affect messy hair
Flows in the wind
Oh, Alexa Chung
I wish I was you… you… you

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