My brain has chemical imbalance
held inside a ceramic palace
The fabrication of lies
and blankness behind the eyes,
with bloodstains on my body,
assault is my hobby.
Not on others you see,
just on 'lil ol' me.
And hunger isn’t a concern,
I want my body to burn.
My own pulse drives me insane,
I’d rather devoured by pain.
You’d think I’d wish the reverse,
but I love it, and that’s my curse.