I'm not a bad person, but I do bad things.
Delved deep into the dark part of me.
I stretched her out to the end of desperation, poured salt in the infected wounds.
I broke every bone in her hands to stop her holding on.
I’m not a bad person, but I do bad things; running around the cell my mind has become.
Just to stare at myself cut/ bleed it out of my skin. I’ve been clawing at the walls so much my finger prints have disappeared.
I picked bones out from her spine just to hang them up to dry, my woman knew I was lying when I came home with death on my mind.
I’m not a bad person but I’ve done bad things, delved deep into the dark part of me.
It’s like the bones under my skin are driving me down a road of conflict and evil.
I bit down so hard that I choked on my own blood, coughing and spluttering though my closed teeth so that I could spit pain at her. Sound has lost all meaning, and touch is just there to hurt. Life goes on and continues to rotate around me, yet I remain stuck in my head in this fantasy world.
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