Drugs, drastic doings and daily doses of suicide.

Do I do it for that feeling of self government?
That adrenaline rush; an engulfing sense of freedom and autonomy.
This is my body,
My lungs to inhale with, my mouth to swallow with and my nose to snort with.
I shouldn't be doing this,
I'm going to do this.
Why am I so ****** up?

Do I do it because I don't care?
'SMOKING KILLS' ,it says it on the box.
Every day I torture my lungs, suffocating them,
Smothering them, smouldering them.
Every inhalation bringing me closer to death.
This thought is not a deterrence but a mere acceptance.
The more I allow myself to be a slave to my plotting and unsubtle murderer, the less I care.
Why am I so ****** up?

Do I do it because its an act or rebellion?
Look at me, I'm doing something you don't approve of,
I'm going to make you angry.
With my misdirected strength and determination,
I'm going to tear down the walls that are your rules.
This feeling of disobedience, it's addictive.
Why am I so ****** up?
So many reasons, so many people, so many ****** up things.

My self-esteem I ripped out of this body long ago
Self-respect not long after that
I traded both for a phony veil of joy
To stop feeling the pain of the place I was at

It never outlasted the strength of the ache
Now I own meager scraps and not much else
A heart in disrepair, aura colored black, muted spirit,
Hands sore and ****** from punishing myself

A hole or two would be just fine
But in my chest something's gone dark
A great persistence possesses me to poke
Until my hurt arms are covered in marks

All the way throughout my scarred skeleton
Sorrows lay scattered, sadness strewn about
They invited insecurities in to stay
Now not a single one will get out

Organs uncomfortably crowded by
Irrational fears, worries, and questions
Anxiety multiplies with a million other things
I would really rather not mention

The few shreds of confidence I had
Finally got fed up and fled
Leaving only doubt and shame
Plus negative thoughts echoing in my head

I used to harbor peace inside my marrow
All I feel there now is hurt
Carefree shrugs and smiles departed
Took refuge somewhere buried under dirt

There is not a lot here remaining
Of the person I was before
Better qualities packed up
And exited out the nearest door

These days I'm made of stubborn self-hatred,
Cloudy skin, empty eyes, lifeless hair, no beauty,
Addiction replaced the brightness of my soul with broken bulbs,
Yeah, there's not much here left of me

Beat her till her skin breaks loose
Tell her you love her
Kiss her wounds and eat dinner