I sit and pick my brain each night
With an axe in my hand held tight
Bite my nose to spite my face
Killing myself, I can't escape the rat race
Wallowing in neck-deep misery
Quicksand dissent, pressure free
Deepest wounds are self inflicted
Should I hope to be vindicated
Always alone, society's abortion
Self mutilation, the daily portion
Resentful past breeds hopeful future
With tears of blood, I remove the sutures
Dying inside, emotions they hide
Irreparable damage from the tears the I've cried
I climb from the sewer, the years that I have spent
Self mutilation or my environment Read more »

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