To feed the greed,
the need to bleed,
I plant my pain,
a poison I need.
What does it mean
when hurt feels right,
when darkness comforts
more than light?
I wash my hands,
I scrub the stain,
but every cleanse
returns the pain
I promise myself
this time I’ll heal,
yet end up trapped
beneath all I feel
Because the greed
still plants the need,
and all my addiction
does is feed.
May 8
May 8, 2026 at 9:20 AM UTC
To feed the greed,
the need to bleed,
I plant my pain,
a poison I need.
What does it mean
when hurt feels right,
when darkness comforts
more than light?
I wash my hands,
I scrub the stain,
but every cleanse
returns the pain
I promise myself
this time I’ll heal,
yet end up trapped
beneath all I feel
Because the greed
still plants the need,
and all my addiction
does is feed.
