The pulsing in my dead wrists.
the pointlessness of a person.
wasting space.
wasting air.
pointless.
Theres no need for a person who always has dealth on thier mind.
the ensance of a person.
Blood is what boiled in the heart, Rushes to my head. there is just to much of it.
Need something sharp. Anything that can rip through the flesh. make the blood rush to the surface. I
t makes the heart stop pounding. the brain stop thinking.
Not quite ready to die, never ready to live.
pain is the the middle. pain is what I have, pain is what I give. pain is what reminds you that you are not dead yet.
In ways I am filled with as much hatred as one person can hold tward the thing that makes me be in the shadows.
Forces me. It makes me cover my scars. mentally. physically.
By the darkest corner I will be there. where the evil lays and sits and stares.
Not letting me reach the light. you get sick of being in the dark. I know I did. And still do. | 
They are so sweet. I meet them, and they where the nicest people you could ever meet. 
