Why!?!

Cold to the touch
I run it across my wrist
Sadly the warmth from my blood doesn’t come
It’s dull
I feverishly swipe back and forth
And occasionally apply pressure with the tip
I need to bleed
I need the pain to wash over my body
My inner thigh, wrist and neck seem impervious to my assault
I must find another way
I want to die but not yet
But soon I will claim my life.

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