Beauty in the Death To take that blade, and slowly dragging it across your smooth skin, there is something about the feeling, that makes you never want to stop. To see the red liquid with an iron taste seep to the surface and slowly drudge it's way down your skin, and there is something with that, that comes too late. Laying in the middle of the floor, been losing blood for an hour now, no one not even noticing you we're dying, them coming back and it's too late, your already dead.
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