I've always known I was self destructive,but you've brought out the worst of it.
a vein sliced open,
one pill too many in my system,
would have been agony come to an end,
but you,
you're the bonfire I keep getting closer and closer to,
burning myself,
in the hopes of warmth that's never quite enough.
you've been reduced to that little patch of skin I keep
cutting open,
hoping for some feeling to mix in with the pain.
today you're the pack of cigarettes that I carry around,
deep inside my bag,
long after I've sworn to quit smoking.
tomorrow,you'll be cloth that shrouds me,as I fall for you
one last time.
because a bleeding vein runs out of blood
but a leaking soul gathers rust forever.
