Marks On His Arms

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No one noticed the marks on his arms,

I told him to stop, it was giving him scars.

My tears stained clear,

While his wrists stained red,

No one even noticed that he had bled.

Day after day, people strolled by,

Caring less that someone was to die.

The pain stuck inside him,

Was forced to come out.

No one even noticed,

Before he had shout.

The coffee was dark like the pain he had dealt.

The people were gloomy like the way he had felt.

His eyes were closed his body stiff.

At least he could no longer slice at his wrists.

And no one even noticed,

Until pain was wrought.

Lives were lost,

And fights were fought.

~Anonymous~

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