I need it.
I need to taste it once again.
Crimson poison that entices me.
I need the blood flowing out my skin
The rush- feeling lighter, yet so heavy.
I need another taste. I need
Just one quick slice to feel better.
So I tell myself I'll only do three
Three turns to six…turns to nine..twenty seven
Eighty four… what's your favorite number?
I'll only do your favorite, seventeen.
I know it's bad but I need it.
I promised I'd never do it again but I need it.
Promises mean nothing between you and me.
I see myself doing it in my dreams.
I kill myself every night in my sleep.
It's not a choice, it's an addiction to bleed.
I need it.
