except

i fall down with a suicide frown
on my face and i cant retrace
my steps back to space
with the razor in my hand
both wrists cut open
like flood gates from hell
all the blood pours from within
but still the pain in my head is overwhelming
so i cut myself again
my eyes start to water
my clothes are soaked in blood
my forehead is wet with sweat
and everything goes dark
is this finaly death?
as i welcome it like a lost friend
i hear satin laughing in the background
i killed myself im going to hell
but what would i expect
the end of all pain and torment?
when its only just begun
your words linger on the tip of my tongue
but i cut that too
in a blind rage to seek pain
to escape pain that follows me
everywhere this face appears
even on my object of destruction
the razor in my hand is a tool
the drug of my choice
my choice of relaxations
when the blood reaches my fingertips
a straight line of red cocaine
on my wrist like a stranger
when lucifer is my bestfriend
teaching me that there is only hell
each in a different form compared to the other
some may be bad
others are worse
so make the best with the devil
spare your life from dishevel
you will never know the pain of a failure
cuz thats all i think i am
all ive ever been told that i am
the bad apple of the bunch
even when i heard the bone crunch
when he twisted till it snapped
it was all just a mistake
except for my tolerence for pain
when i walked on a broken leg for three days
so instead i slit my throat
see my adams apple naked for the first time
this time i must die
there is nothing to live for
no air
except more pain
cuz im a failure
with a razor blade