The thinking that makes me
Bust mostly breaks me
Has - as I said before
Become a part of me
After all the time that passed by
It now seems like it has become
Something physical
And I can scratch the surface
With my nails across my skin
Or my skin against the walls
I can even peel it off
Slowly and with pain
Or quickly in a flash
It will not keep me satisfied
For the itch always comes back
Sometimes I wish I could
Think of something better
But I'm struck by boredom
..sometimes I hate myself
So I'll just keep on crying out the question
I've become to hate the most
For its uselessness and lack of answer
Yet I'll carve it all over my body
For I'd rather tear myself apart
Then let it become a friend
To let it go I'll have to know
The meaning of it all
why?
Auteur: *dark eyes* | ||
Gecontroleerd door: artemis | ||
Gepubliceerd op: 10 oktober 2004 | ||
Thema's: |