There's just...
Something addicting,
Addicting as nicotine,
About the sharp biting pain,
The warmth of blood flowing down my arms,
As i prayed that i open a vein...
And tell myself I'm not insane.
There's just...
Something addicting,
Addicting...but so conflicting,
About the rush i have,
Everytime i throw my head back...
While i smile at the pain,
And tell myself I'm not insane.
There's just...
Something addicting,
Addicting...but so restricting,
About putting on my sweater,
And bandaging my handiwork...
Hiding this little secret in shame,
And remembering I am indeed...
Quite insane...
