Slowly my demons are tearing at me
gripping me
consuming me
attempting to take control over me
and the only thing stopping them is the smallest part of sanity
humanity
the weakest thing against a handful of enemies
who are immortal,
so a bullet would be like trying to **** them with a marshmallow
and their fingernails would be like fire to my skin
slowly cooking
and like a virus,slowly spreading
it's better to just become one
an immortal being whom everyone should run from
but they wont love and adore me
they'll only **** and scorn me
this is not an edward and bella story
there is no happy ending, no babies and no weird sort of glory
this is life with the unseen
we dont see them so we try to discredit them by all means
the greatest trick devils have accomplished
is convincing the world they don't exist.

and yet,slowly they keep tempting me
with tongues of gold
over my shoulders
their fascinated with me

with how i dont toss everything out the window and just give up already.
so many have before me
justifying that what they feel is perminent
when it's only temporary
fashioning a noose and kicking back the chair
with the  lifeless corpse dancing weirdly in the air
and  their soul,floating around it in midair
whimpering because  they see the unseen
whispering and hoping that the sins are forgiven
did i ask for it, did i repent
or am i destined to be hell's *****

I shouldn't have to think about it
but I do
the thought sits marinading into my mind
Turning into fine wine
that I'll some day get the courage to drink
hoping that if I ever think about it,it'll scare me
causing me to rethink
but until that day It's me living with my enemies
us arguing, until I give up or die naturally

I have taken shots of sorrow
til it became bottle after bottle
of warm liquid that ever warms my veins
leaves me wobbly and in a daze
the bartender says my limit is reached
but i tell him to keep pouring
keep pouring ,keep pouring, til I lie down snoring

However, like a wounded beast i refuse to lie down
So,I'm sitting at the bar and feeling weak
ditzy and cant speak
the woman next to me is saying something
about her problems and things
but my only replies formed are mumblings
the shot glass is sitting on the bar empty in front of me
painted with the cherry red of my lipstick
that once made me pretty
it tempts me for another round
it's evil stares haunts me and so I befriend its gaze
by looking at the glass lovingly

I ask the bartend for more
but he tells security to usher me to the door
upset, i saunder out,
broke my left heel and scream curses as if im opening hell's mouth

Limping around,I somehow found my car and sat in it
took out depression ,rolled it up and lit it
kept taking hits
hit after blazing hit
til my car was so smoky,it leaked out the window
dancing into the air and vanishing--
leaving me as a widow
it was then i decided to grow
tracing the smoke as it dwindled
looked under my seat and found a half empty bottle pain
and kept sipping on it
with nothing to gain

the mirror showed my patheticacy
faded cherry red
runny eyeliner
and smudged blush
painted a wasted mural of me

numb from anything once felt or thought
i threw it into gear and attempted the wasted ****** of me