a poet of sorts. |
lets make it so we cant be seen thin as paper watch us gleam pride shines through what we are trying to do no thought of getting better the grass is getting wetter sneaking out late at night for fear of getting caught throwing up in the lawn appearance of scars oh how fucked up we can be and its all done for me no self control lost that weeks ago i know that i should stop but there was no time to talk the deed is done i said just one now many line my legs up and down no thoughts no loss no sound regrets pour in piled high have to hide the scars from the world so unreasonable therapy for years barely seems agreeable looking down at this battered body scarred and alarming i am probebly dying no worth crying malnutrition, no intuition [when to stop?] [ where is the line?] i thought you said that you were fine. new and creative ways if getting through these godforsaken days getting thinner getting cut getting sicker times yet to come maybe i should just do it my self i dont need yer fxcking help fxck the reaper his timing is off i need to go NOW send me off with a pow brains explose against the wall no need to repaint lets keep it a stain signs of what she used to be nothing moore a mark upon the wall nothing moore. |