The darkness,
Brews inside;
The pain,
That you,
Demonically,
Laugh about,
You love.
The knife,
That twists,
Around;
The cuts,
On your,
Arms;
Draw lines,
On the,
Delicate skin.
You feel,
The pain,
Need it,
To go;
But still,
Let it,
Take over,
You.
You scream,
You cry,
Though you,
Still laugh,
The blood,
Drips on,
The floor;
Like a,
Broken faucet.
The knife,
That twists,
And cuts,
Is all,
In your,
Head;
But is it;
Really.
©mamacrimz
M