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Every time I didnt cut I celebrated
How I was able to mold self-love out of self-hatred
And I cry a little longer, a little louder a little more
I aknowledge that yes, I do feel alone
Fight the urge to reach out for my phone
Call a man,
To handle my emotions, something women dont understand
Whats it good for
Fight the urge to reach out for my knife
Before it turns into a habit, for every unwanted feeling in this life
Fight the urge to reach out for my parents
As I will always be their child, but slowly and softly need to leave my childhood behind
Or turn it the other way around
Unlearn the behaviour and thoughtpatterns that lead me to put others before myself, lead me to hold my breath until I froze
Thinking, sometimes still that I cannot control how I feel inside
But somehow that is exactly the place I find the strenght to fight
And where I mold self-love out of self-hate
Every-time I dont cut I will celebrate
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