Can’t seem to find the words to describe what it is I lack.
Looking for what motivates to pick up on my slack.
Feeling drained of my artistic adrenaline rush. World’s greatest canvas; but dry remains the brush.
Used to be told to “Hush” these thoughts of suicide that never seem to die. Walking unaffected with baggage that make others want to cry.
I know the truth yet for some reason I can’t stop this lie…I tell myself in the mirror.
“It’s not your fault. You are the monster your peers created.”
If that’s true then why must I stay heavily sedated.
Why not go all out on the world. Why not add to the darkness and turmoil?
Because I created myself.
If I told you I didn’t like being evil don’t believe me. If you see me helping others PLEASE don’t percieve me; to be a good guy or die by my hands.
I got a date with the devil so no, we can not make “plans.” Fuck people who do things like this for their “Fans”. I do this shit cause I hurt inside. I walked all the way to hell because heaven doesn’t give rides. Can’t seem to rid myself of this foolish pride, but could care less if you chose to confide. .
. .in me…