Shattered mirror pieces lay beside my razor, lifeless on my bedroom floor.

Cut with scrapes of dried up blood and mistakes.

Haterated of lies, decetes of tears gone sour.

Staring deadly at the clock, awaiting the next past hour.

"You must comfront him!", you hear, as it replays in your
un-perfect little mind.

Finding it hard to spit it out, like poison swallowed whole.

"DO IT!", the voices scream louder as you cut more into your flesh
trying to make the pain disapear.

No.

Don't let him take you over, and bring you down.

Smuther you with despair, let you suffercate and drown.

 
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