1. |
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2. |
Hurt Them Back
05:02
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I have been left violated.
Know my soul and all it's hatred.
I want to mutilate myself.
I want to ruin...
I want you to feel it too.
How much more blood is there to lose?
And these frenzies are driven by my urge to fucking tear through flesh, then vital organs.
To break the bones of my body, sordid.
And by the look that's on your face, I feel vile.
At this point I've lost enough blood that you can tell where I've been and see where I touch.
You'll find me red in the bathroom, cause my paw prints trailed the fucking walls.
I'm so obsessed with my disaster.
God, I feel so foul that I have to hurt myself.
I deserve mangled hands, you all deserve my beating.
The more I relieve, the more I keep bleeding.
I can taste metallic breath, and I'm choking on my phlegm.
My whole world goes to shit as my blood dries brown from red.
It's the same fucking tantrum but every time it happens, I only get worse.
I can't function.
It's my earth.
I'll beat it in for what it's worth.
How much more blood is there to lose?
And these frenzies are driven by my urge to chastise my body.
Nights like this I come dangerously close to crashing my car or slitting my throat.
It's when they do me in and berate me for how ugly I am.
I know I'm full of shit cause shits been my life since I was dumped in it.
How many more nights will I spend behind my spit splattered windshield as I squeal for relief from myself, these people, or the earth that's forced in front of me?
I cannot stomach this or all of my catastrophe.
"I'm coming for you" is all I could manage to gag out of my fucking mouth, as I conjured the nerve to send my car into the lake.
This is my only way.
And these frenzies are driven by my urge to fucking....
Hurt-Them-Back
I have been left violated.
Know my soul and all it's hatred.
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3. |
1100
04:41
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Eleven hundred, warm.
Soaked in piss covered sheets.
Writhing from the urge to cut their throats while they sleep.
Mother, I'm panicking.
Don't send me away.
I know I'm not your fucking problem, but I tried to kill myself today.
I imagined her face as she found me nude. Dead.
The blackened out spaces that were smeared across my childhood have broken me down into revulsion.
Abandoned. Tormented. Things I just kept repressed in the furthest corners of me brought on convulsions.
Fucked in.
Pissed out.
Killed off.
I'm fucked from their neglect,
Still I beg for my mother.
I feel like a threat to myself and to others.
I lied to the doctors when they asked if I want to kill myself or anyone else.
At night it gets worse.
Nothing is helping.
We're all gonna die.
I feel myself ending.
Mother, it's dark down here.
I remember pale sunshine.
I felt it char my world the day I should have died.
And I should have fucking died.
ifeellifewearingintowaste.
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