In my own words
Small, Simple, Safe Price Rise The Wake And Carry Me With All Of My Regrets. This Is Not A Small Cut That Scabs, And Dries, And Flakes, And Heals. And I Am Not Afraid To Die, I'm Not Afraid To Bleed, And F_uc_k, And Fight. I Want The Pain Of Payment. What's Left, But A Section Of Pigmy Size Cuts. Much Like A Slew Of A Thousand Unwanted Fu_c_ks. Would You Be My Little Cut? Would You Be My Thousand F_uc_ks? And Make Mark Leaving Space For The Guilt To Be Liquid. To Fill, And Spill Over, And Under My Thoughts. My Sad, Sorry, Selfish Cry Out To The Cutter... I'm Cutting Trying To Picture Your Black Broken Heart. Love Is Not Like Anything Especially A F_uck_ing Knife... |
From Now On...
I will drink less |
