Shaking fingers
Holding these instruments of death
Dragging regret to my lips
Poisoned with bitterness and self loathing
These instruments of torture taunt me
Because the one wielding them is me
Excuses and lies
One little bite won't hurt!
Excuses and lies
I should know the feeling of regret by now
Subtle as a gun to my head
But still I hold these instruments of death
And kill myself again and again
YOU ARE READING
The dark abyss that is my mind: part one
PoetryDo you know that feeling? Nothing matters, nobody cares, life has no meaning. That feeling that you want to just give up? That all you do is use up space and annoy people? That everybody is better off without you? That's me everyday. Every single da...
