I can’t stop thinking about cutting myself up.
Visual bruises can be covered in makeup
But down to the core I’m all bruises.
My little whore gives this excuses.
How can this be rationalized?
Your brain has programmed, all of those lies.
What do you tell yourself, about our situation?
How can you look at yourself without having some sort of revelation?
How do you live with yourself?
How could you possibly hurt someone like myself?
The saddest part is, I would take u back.
You’ve turned me into some spineless hypochondriac.
Now I tend to every last emotion.
I’m so caught in this I can not grasp it’s hazed proportion.
Alright now I’ll be fair
I’ll just pull you by your hair
I’ll just kick you from time to time
And then I’ll love you in the meantime.
It will be just like before
I’ll be your girl, you’ll be my whore.
I am not an angry child
I don’t run hot nor mild
But for some reason when it comes to you
I smile at the thought of hitting you
I smile at the thought of watching you die.
I strive off the image of making you cry
I feed of the feeling of having you need
I lick the illusion, of watching you bleed!!!