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One more week?
I stand before the mirror
The image repelling
I shed that silent tear
clutch the cross around my neck
Breathe in and stare back into dead eyes
Quivering at my sight
It trickles down further
Shinning liquid in the dark
Withering vines release
Scars deep, a new born MARK
Torment dancing around my reflection
Hold the blade closer
Ripping the cross
Denial in depression
Cutting myself to imperfection
What do you see
Cuts so deep
Voice so mild and meek
Answering in defeat
Powder on the nose to numb the addiction I seek
Starving body shutting down
Love I offer to any fuck-up clown
Heart pounding, but no sound
Pulse quickening
Appearance sickening
Covering it all up, I must make sure it hides
To walk outside
Wear that famous placebo smile
Beauty, everyone watching me
For what’s really there, I will never let them see
I’ll become that plastic doll
Today, I will be pleasing and faking
tonight, I’ll be alone, blade close, bleeding and aching
When I wake, stained in bloody sheets
I’ll think, maybe just one more week…
