Blood.
Dripping.
From her wrist.
Tears.
Flowing.
Drowning her wasted cries.
Were they?
Someone.
Crying.
It isn't her.
God.
Asking.
"What are you doing?"
She.
Stops.
"I already took those stripes for you."
The blade.
Falls.
"I am here child."
You
Are
Not
Alone.
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Bet you can't beat those moves