Scars

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Some cuts heal

Some cuts fade

But the scars remain

Cut deep with a sharp blade

Some people stop

Some people try

Every one of us struggle

To say good bye

It’s a habit as well as a curse

Nobody seems to understand  

That stopping makes us vulnerable

From stones to soft sand   

We feel alone

When surrounded by friends

Looking for someone  

Who believes our hearts can mend  

We see them, the people

Who behind their raised hands softly mutter

‘Look at those scars

The scars of a teenage cutter.’

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