Writer's Blocked Writer's Blog

I love the PAIN

What do I do in a time like this

When nothing seems to ever work out right

Why does it seem like my life is piss

And all I wanna do is get beat up in a fight?

Get my teeth knocked out,

Getting beat to a pulp

Why does that sound so appealing to me?

Maybe because, in reality

That’s what I’m actually for.

I’m so used to being told I’m garbage and shit

That I can expect nothing more.

Takin a knife, cutting and stabbing

Every inch of skin and flesh

Until not an inch of me isn’t covered in blood

And I lie there in pain, but secretly

I’m loving every second of my own misery.

I enjoy the flow of that gooey red mess

That I want to be emptied of,

I might as well confess.

The feeling of pain, I have become accustomed to

Hell, I would beat myself til I was all black and blue.

Until every inch of me

Was either bruised or bloody

God, I love the feeling of pain

I’d be willing to feel it again and again.

Beat me to death, it really matters not

Punch me in the nose so it’s just blood and snot

Break every bone in my miserable self

Sever my legs in half so I could pass as an elf.

What would I do to defend myself?

Nothing, I’d tell you fuck you, I love what you do

Every punch, every kick, I’ll be getting off to it.

And when I’m nothing but crippled, lying on the floor,

I’d piss you off more by calling your mother a whore.

There’s nothing you can do to me

That could make me feel more shitty

I’ve had my heart torn out, emotionally

You might as well tear it out literally.

It wouldn’t make a difference, it’s all just the same.

I would rather have physical than emotional pain.

And if by this time, I still wasn’t dead, I’d point to a boulder

And tell you “drop it over my head”

You might consider this a little extreme

But what do I care, life isn’t worth a thing.

I’d rather be dead, than suffer through life,

Watching every one I care about cut themselves with a knife

Or die of some horrible way, that was even remotely my fault

I’d take their place, even if it meant joining a cult.

I’d take all your weed, and smoke it all up

That way I wouldn’t feel a thing while you’re fucking me up.

But even if I didn’t, it wouldn’t even matter.

All I want to do is witness all my blood splatter.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: