This thing I have,
it makes me sick;
I'm tired of life
just drumming on
the same as life
the day before,
my hair receding
more and more,
and nothing stops
this ruthless train
from ploughing down
my tortured brain,
the scars it carves
are deep ingrained,
and split my soul
in sorry halves,
each impulse sparking
shots of shame
that jab my spine
with ****** of pain,
each choking breath
a living death,
a rhythm that
just picks up speed
with every whine,
a whispered threat
that only tortured
ones can heed-
...
So I will shave my head.
...
My broken slate will be wiped clean.
This sorry life I'll now grab back
and brand new paths I'll tread.
Sep 19, 2017
Sep 19, 2017 at 12:29 PM UTC
This thing I have,
it makes me sick;
I'm tired of life
just drumming on
the same as life
the day before,
my hair receding
more and more,
and nothing stops
this ruthless train
from ploughing down
my tortured brain,
the scars it carves
are deep ingrained,
and split my soul
in sorry halves,
each impulse sparking
shots of shame
that jab my spine
with ****** of pain,
each choking breath
a living death,
a rhythm that
just picks up speed
with every whine,
a whispered threat
that only tortured
ones can heed-
...
So I will shave my head.
...
My broken slate will be wiped clean.
This sorry life I'll now grab back
and brand new paths I'll tread.
I am trying my best to overcome my problems now. I just thought it was relevant to write about my demons again.
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