I can't help
but ruin my body.
I like what I do,
I like being naughty.

I like drugs,
I like to drink.
I like pushing myself
off the brink.

I like parties,
I like being high.
I like doing things
that make me slowly die.

I like bleeding,
I like pain.
Ruining my body
is what keeps me sane.

I'm addicted to hurt,
I'm addict to the blade.
I'm addicted cuts,
to the scars I made.

I'm addicted to sadness,
depression, too.
But what I really am
is addicted to you.

On you,
I secretly depend.
Without you,
I will come to an end.

No, god,
I'm okay.
Really.
Believe what I say.

Jesus, no,
please, I'm not.
I'm anything but,
have you forgot?

I can't do this.
I need to die.
I can't base
my life on a lie.

I can't keep saying
"I'm okay."
Because I'm not.
There's no way.

I have this idea
where my thoughts reside.
This idea, feeling,
is suicide.

No...
No, I'm okay.
Yes :)
Okay.

:):):)