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a poem i wrote-what it is like
What it is Like
It’s not like I knew what I was doing as I scratched my arm.
It’s not like I had any idea of what it could lead to.
It’s not like I wanted to start using a blade; it was a need.
It’s not like I thought about everything before hand.
It’s not like I could understand how painfully addicting it is.
It’s not like I researched horror stories.
It’s not like I was prepared to add my own story.
It’s not like I understood what self-harm was.
It’s not like I didn’t try to stop.
It’s not like I am not still trying.
It’s not like I can succeed at beating this.
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