Deep down inside I feel loneliness,
wherever I look I see death.
This sicknes is greater than it all.
Soon I will pick up the knife one more time.
I will wath the red pour out of my skin,
and I will cry as I cut deeper and deeper again and again.
I feel like shit but at least I feel something.
I embrace the pain, almost enjoy it.
I'm a a freak, a fucking failure.
I hate myself for being me.