literature

11. Jane

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Literature Text

"Jane"
Jane sits in her room
Examining every cut bloom
Trickling blood
Excites every nerve
She licks each finger
As they wipe the blade
Never feeling the pain
Worthy of no gain
They'll never know the reason
Jane sits alone
She'll never confine,
What should never hide.
The pain of every day
That drives a masochistic insane
She slowly slips to sleep
Hoping never to wake
Soon her wish will take
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