The Writings of a Hopeless Cause

Corruption

You're in my mind,

constantly.

And I can't get you out. 

You creep into my empty corners,

and build yourself a home. 

My mind's light has staggered and scattered,

it's harder to be found.

So I turn to a small pocket knife,

to replace what I've lost.

Corrosive thoughts have come and gone,

like the rising and setting of the sun. 

Everything is in place if I wish to end it,

and maybe it'll be soon.

The memories of happiness that left me in the dust,

have made me feel lower than I already am.

I've lost people, people have lost me,

it's all a cycle of pure torture.

I turn to a few razor blades,

hidden, in an old pillow.

Everything flashes as I become paper,

thoughts burning away at my edges. 

I'm small and weak and unwanted in this world, 

but all I've ever asked for is love.

Instead I get screams, punishments, abuse,

I can't run or hide.

All I can do is cry behind locked doors, 

tear myself apart when you're not looking,

and carve myself open. 

So I hope you're happy when you see me,

lying dead on the cold floor.

Because you put me there,

you little corrupted thoughts...