October 31, 2009
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My morbid thought corodes my mind Like vines wrapping around a building

Leave me to my decision
I cut with the utmost precision

Needing the physical pain
But hating it just the same

My knives shy away from me
As if intentionaly prolonging my misery

Im not doing this because of you
I know that you don't even care

The cold blade rests upon hungry skin
Wanting and longing to rip and tear

The knife may have slipped
I may have pushed too deep

But now that it's done
I can think of noreason to weep

My wish has been granted
By my psycopathic genie

And there's nobody here
To witness or see me

I fall to the now red spattered floor
Rest my head against the porcelain

Fall into a sleep that I know I wont be waking up from

My morbid thought corrodes my mind
Like vines wrapping around a building

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