i swallowed half a bottle last week.
tell me when the ***** will be enough.
tell me when i'll be enough.
i die a little more each day.
a little piece used to erode away from my flesh when i cried,
now there's no more to go.
"Oh, how rude of me to bring my thoughts inside your bedroom."
i am only a Guilty Sadist,
waiting for my soul to float back into infinity.
These problems are only in my imagination.
"We don't even exist anyways."
That's what i keep telling myself but,
this pain seems so real.
The emotional things are becoming physical
and these cuts and bruises on my body aren't fictional.
I am ****** to hell,
but it's not a physical place.
Heaven and hell are only states of mind.
maybe i can escape
and maybe not.
Don't ridicule me because i don't believe in god or allah or buddah or satan,
i have killed myself enough for the both of us.
i am in a whirlwind of emotions and heartbreaks and tears and screams and ghosts and demons and
music.
let the music play.
hear the gentle strum of the guitar and it will all be alright
... but it is still here.
help me
.
**please