It's Just A Picture Of Pain.

The pills you pop taste foul and old.
It disturbs me how you can swallow them so easily,
When your mouth is dry from the vodka that burns your throat.
It's just a picture of deceit.

The flicker of the flame as it's brought to your skin,
Makes me cringe whilst you tear up.
You can't stand the pain but you still go on,
Until you're satisfied with the damage you've done.
It's just a picture of dependence.

The rusted blade you keep hidden,
The one no one knows about but me,
Makes me squirm in my seat when I watch it slide across your porcelain skin,
Leaving crimson lines and crimson tears to fall from your body.
It's just a picture of death.