I’m lost again amongst the broken promises,
My wrists are bleeding yet again,
Skies overhead are heavy with defeat,
I cannot breath the air,
There are so many choices,
But nobody even cares,
Trapped again in the darkness of my own making,
They say its better to have and lose,
Than to always be without,
My crimson addiction mocks me,
I want it yet I don't,
I know that it has to end,
But I convince myself it won't,
Your talk is cheap from bitter lips,
Words mean much but prove nothing,
All your eyes are shut and turned away,
But in my emptiness I clutch at something,
That thing is my terror,
Feeling the rippling bliss,
Of knowing that despite what is being said,
My pile grows with another broken promise.

 
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