It's that gut wrenching feeling,
Knowing where that blade is,
Three quarter inches from the base,
Of the inside of a closest,
That held so many secrets,
Because my friends cut off their ears,
So they never had to listen,
Listen to the nothingness,
The nothing of my life,
Cause that's where I'm headed,
To the base board three quater inches up,
I'll build a home and live there,
In my scarlet silken sheets,
Make love to bandages and salve,
Share lunch with long sleeve tees,
And cups of disgusting tea with pants,
You did this to yourself,
Your own personal hell,
Addicted to the addict of your own self,
I want to be reborn.