The things I would do for a knife in my palms, slicing and slitting away
Hoping for blood and hitting the vein that keeps all the demons at bay
How I miss the feeling of thoughts never to be found
Heart in my head, pounding away, the beautiful, thundering sound
Ages its been since I felt the sting followed by a pause
Like a thousand daggers ripping away the hurt that you have caused
A smile slithers over, seeing the crimson stained upon soft skin
In the end, you understand that you can't ever win
Nov 27, 2015
Nov 27, 2015 at 1:32 PM UTC
The things I would do for a knife in my palms, slicing and slitting away
Hoping for blood and hitting the vein that keeps all the demons at bay
How I miss the feeling of thoughts never to be found
Heart in my head, pounding away, the beautiful, thundering sound
Ages its been since I felt the sting followed by a pause
Like a thousand daggers ripping away the hurt that you have caused
A smile slithers over, seeing the crimson stained upon soft skin
In the end, you understand that you can't ever win
