Jan 2014
if you could taste the blood
running out of my cuts
it won’t taste rust and salt
but bitter razor blades and asphalt
and you’ll be surprised
that you did not know this
because every time I cut
you weren't there, nobody else were
and although I am afraid
I was never scared to rush
those blades to and fro
of my veins that bled
your same ******* blood.
running out of my cuts
it won’t taste rust and salt
but bitter razor blades and asphalt
and you’ll be surprised
that you did not know this
because every time I cut
you weren't there, nobody else were
and although I am afraid
I was never scared to rush
those blades to and fro
of my veins that bled
your same ******* blood.
This was the epitome of my Christmas, great huh? Hoping this year I'd do better.
