What do I do.
When I can't speak to you.
I start making marks, with different tools.
You thought I was better, such fools.
It's been a while now since I've made art.
My hands are aching to split white apart.
I want to feel, and see it again.
But with no motive, how would I explain to my kin?
It's no longer a problem that I need to fulfill my hunger.
It's a simple action that will let me slumber.
No excuse is needed for I've become an addict.
Even I won't be able to predict.
My future is what I don't care for any longer.
It's nice to not have to worry and ponder.
So now what do I do?
I keep being the best actress everyday......
Just. Like. You.
