I'm stuffing needles down my throat
So that maybe I can release the pressure that's been building up inside of me
Maybe One might ***** the source of my sorrows allowing me to be free of the ******* weight thats wrapped around my ankles, I can't move
But the needles are carving into my esophagus
Words of a pessimist
I can't breathe
Maybe I can calm the demons dancing around with a pill or a potion
But the smoke you blow in my face feads the forgotten souls
Resurfaces the things I tried to force out of my mind so hard  that they embedded into the under lying layer of my skin
I keep thinking that maybe a blade could do the trick
A price to pay for the way I act
A punishment or maybe it's an attachment
Who knows I can't ever quite it
Like smoking cigarette after cigarette
I turn my lungs black and my wrists red
Can I ever look back
Without wanting to hack myself into pieces?