It's society's fault I feel this way
that I'm ashamed to be me
that I don't feel that I deserve another day
making me fall in love with blades,
knives, pills my body doesn't need,
illegal drugs I get to inhale, smoke
and even inject into my body.
I am a hurting artist
and my body is my canvas
and with swift strokes of joyful pain
I paint beautiful cuts onto myself
but that's only the beginning.
as satisfied as I may be,
the pain inside me is brewing
so it craves for more -
more relieving pain
it craves for the distances between
the world, my soul, heart, and mind to increase
So that I may drift further into my own personalisation of euphoria












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