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Ripping off my skin in hopes to find what is underneath. Slashing the flesh tearing, gouging deeper in hope to feel true pain. Bleeding, pouring waterfalls or red, watching it all go down the drain.
Digging, burning even to get what I want, seeking peace, seeking help. To much pressure to handel, waiting, watchin, bleeding. Wounds that will never heal, so theirs no hope for me. Once filled with life not filled with hate, hate for everyone,everything, hate for me.
Not caring because you never did, not caring because I finaly feel like me. Who I am, this is me. I am what I want to be but I still see a problem with it. Gouging, slashing, digging, bitting, I can tast the blood and it tast so sweet. I can tast the feeling of fury, or rage, of hate.
The type of hate that goes deep, the type of hate that has all intensions to kill. To kill and watch, to wait for every last ounce of blood to drain from the body. But who am i killing? Why me of corse, and anyone who gets in my way. I'm done with all of the people who got in my way, all of the people that made me this way.
Crazy, I am truely a psychopath I have been pushed and pushed to that stage of life.What do I need? I need peace I need relief, but none is found. I have gone mad no more can i take I'm done with it all. If I'm found dead the don't mourn, rejoice for i have finaly been freed of this pain that i hold in my cheast. Rejoice for their is finaly an end to my madness.
 Poetic_Indulgence · Mon Jan 21, 2008 @ 07:33pm · 0 Comments |
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