Old MetalA Poem by Rae CJcutting reflectionOld Metal It feels good to me, that cold blade against my skin. That burning pain I recieve as I press it deeper and deeper into my skin. I watch as my blood boils out from the cut. Soon, I can't control myself, and I slice and scrape more at my skin. I found my arms covered with blood when I finished. The scabs turned to scars and my arms become a used piece of metal. Cold and covered in scars. © 2010 Rae CJAuthor's Note
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6 Reviews Added on July 2, 2010 Last Updated on July 2, 2010 AuthorRae CJNEAboutI LOVE writing. I would do it 24/7 if I got the chance. I enjoy dancing and playing basketball and will never turn down a good movie more..Writing
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