This addiction is getting to be more than I can take,
Because these needles get to me good.
And I dropped myself outside your house,
It didn't matter because I couldn't feel the rain.
All I have is the blood on my hands,
And to question if this is really pain.
Now I have to roll down my sleeves,
I don't know what I will say when they ask about the scars.
My bones are eating away at my skin,
It's like there is nothing to me anymore.
And to think I could hide this from you all,
But my eyes are always to sore.
I couldn't see what I was doing to myself,
I missed the feeling that I always felt.
Now I have to confess,
I was running out of excuses for my scars.
To weak to say anything I fell to the floor,
This room became a nightmare but still I wanted more.
I can't shake this off I wanted one more shot,
And the feeling, the feeling of death is exactly what I got.
Author notes
Written July 27th, 2005
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dude.. sad poem.. sounds like heroin.. my cousin had it, and i see exactly what i saw with him in this. scary good.
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Edited on Aug 25, 3:46 p.m. because 'yt'. -
this is really good, i don't know how else to describe it. it is truly amazing. i can feel all of your pain.
if you ever need to talk, even though you don't know me, just im me.
trish
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