every passing hour,
i feel the desire in me grow,
u make me sick but like a ***** i am on your beckon call

i trade blood for bruises
a lot less excuses
i pop my pills so i don't have to deal

lets be straight u bring the stuff
then we will be great
no way in hell will i lie down stone cold
i need u to make me not feel
i need u to wipe out the hours so their are less of them to deal

so sick of myself so sick within myself
yet i let u drag me to ure heaven and to my hell
after all this i beg u not to go
because i just don't know how to deal with myself
systemslut systemslut
31-35, F
Aug 20, 2014