Living this life for every one else.
Laying here with my thoughts on a shelf.
Constantly thinking about shooting myself.
What's the point of making everyone else
happy?
The things in my head are completely
sappy.
Judgement of myself becomes toxic.
If only I thought I was hot shit.
It's impossible to unsee what spins through
my mind.
Disgusting things continue to intertwine.
Why is it that it feels like I'm in a deep hole.
conesuir of sadness like a small widow mole.
My words are all exactly the same,
and I only have myself to blame.
Desensitized to this gruesome madness,
with each and every slice.
Before I grab the blade I always think twice.
The urge doesnt leave my head so I'll do what
I must.
Watching, and smiling as I watch myself gush.