i know i'm crazy, she says,
sitting
near broken glass,
and blood,
her wrists strapped
white. i know me,
she echoes,
her finger
twirling the dark strands
of her hair, the blue
in her eyes
wet and turning
a different shade of blue,
a muddled
pond of blue.
treatment can educate me,
but it can't cure,
i know these things,
i them in my heart,
so why can't you.
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