some days I feel like I'm dead. my head gets filled up with dread. untill I can feel that pain then I'll know, I'm not insane.
some days I'm filled up with greed, and even the lust of wanting some one to bleed. is this a selfish choice, to want to here the scream of your voice.
sadness overflows my heart. I look in the mirror and ask myself, is this still art. all I could blame is myself, I refuse to pay attention to my own health. look at me now I'm pretty sure I'm insane. look at my face and tell me you wouldn't say the same.