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Aware
Long aware of the difficulties I own
I have reaped what I have sown
The angst geared toward myself is great
Too often it has turned into hate
Ripping apart any ounce of fight I had
The pain I inflict has driven me mad
Knowing the result does me no good
For it does not change my attitude
I still damage what sanity I have
By the cut of the knife in my hand


Elisabeth Stover 2001