I Peirce my tongue, nose and Lip,
And litter my skin with colerful ink.
My rebelious acts disguise my pain,
Encouraging the fact that I'm already insane.
I cant help but get into trouble,
It's not my fault I'm such a rebel.
My dangerous stunts risk my existence,
I'd leave this world with no resistance.
I have no plans for the future ahead of me,
Pain, sorrow and depression is all I see.
My past is filled with dark, gruesome nightmares,
And my present is a series of challenges and dares.
And like we have already discussed,
My future is a maybe, not a must.
I want out of this world, out of life,
But I don't know how, maybe the knife?
There's also the pills, but would it be fast?
I don't want my suffering end to last.
The gun would be easy and quick..
Yes, of course, that'll do the trick!
The gun to my head and my mouth to a smile,
I'll have out of life in just a short while.
