One more, just one.
Well maybe two won't hurt.
Another mistake made,
another pill swallowed,
another scar cut,
another thought fabricated.
I used to live a life of pure, untouched, innocent happiness.
Now I live in painkiller-induced fantasies of death and despair.
I stare at the clock, waiting for this to end.
And I have only found that it gets worse.
I used to look for a remedy.
Now, all I want is an end.