In Which the Poet Recalls the Past

She rakes a nail down her thigh
Flesh pulls, tears, opens
Blood beads along jagged line
Her memories swirl and writhe
As they surface from the pit
Of her mind, finding freedom
Reveling in their escape
Jagged lines, beaded blood
No physical pain matches
Distracts her heart from
The agony, the hopelessness
Running free within her mind,
Hidden deep within her memories.

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