Poetry(question mark)

This is the blade,
pressed to my skin,
for some reason,
I left it all behind.
Sometimes, I smile and laugh,
And sometimes, it's easy,
Sometimes, it's too much.
Before I fall asleep at night i remember
and try to forget.
This is the itching, hurting, BURNING
in my heart and soul.
to be different in a better way.
This is the stuff I used to bleed,
Before I cried it all out of me.

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