Call it what you want

Battered. Annihilated. Shattered. Fragmented. Cracked. Crushed. Fractured. Call it what you want. But I’m broken. Casualty. Fatality. Innocent. Martyr. Call it what you want. But I’m a victim. I know what it feels to be alone. To stare at your blade. Music blaring. Trying to escape reality. Writing fuck up deeper and deeper into your skin. Not caring that it’s said to be a sin. Watching your blood. Biting your lip. Too ignore the pain. I know what it feels like to be up at night clenching your stomach cause your crying and just wish you could scream. Crying cause there’s no one there. No one to care. Depression. Addiction. Name it iv basically done it all. Wondering how much harder you have to make it hurt for your life to end. How much harder you have to fall. Hating your reflection. Wishing for perfection. Wishing and wishing. But nothing ever comes true…Wishing for that dance with the devil cause it takes two to tango. And we are gonna dance till death do us part…