Nobody would guess where I am
Talking with an old friend again
Mr. Razor Blade and I go way back
My only outlet when the world went black
I revealed to him only, my debilitating pain
So why do I still feel like a disillusioned teen?
Lonely, isolated, confused, and full of self-torment
I have returned for a glimpse of my self-repent
…
Mutilation
It’s hidden
But I’m not shameful
It was a bad day
A bad week, a bad month
A bad year, a bad decade
I suffered loss
My life became overshadowed
By my death
My love for the blood
To see the blood flow to the floor
Hooked on a deadly rush
Feeling bad became so good
Lost in a life with lack of control
The only control I could muster
Was the power to destroy myself
Every night was a challenge
My addiction got worse
Skin grew paler than ever
Blood became my graffiti
I painted the walls with my pain
A deep dark pit of sick pleasure
Eventually I tunneled out
But I am not ashamed
I expressed my self-hatred and survived
To hate another day
Blood loss saved my life
How’s that for irony
Copyright 2003 Loser Johnson
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