Regrets and Cigarettes

Take a look around at the mess that's been made,
Your dignity and pride's on the floor.
You promise yourself it'll stop someday,
But still you go back for more.
To rid yourself of the numbness and hate,
To feel sexy, to feel what you call love.
It works for a day, a week, but not long,
Then the cycle repeats the above.
"Stranger danger" you laugh to yourself,
Kidding yourself that you're friends.
But you know nothing about them, no last name,
Just shame, the most bitter of the sweetest ends.
And as you gather your clothes and dress once again,
The story remains the same.
"Don't get involved, I'll ruin you, darling"
And in time, you're frozen in one frame.
The hate, the guilt, the regret and burning lust,
Twisted, terrifying turmoil inside.
But you spark your cigarette as you strut away,
Knowing of not in who you can confide.
Because the secret is out, but was it ever in?
"You're fucked in the head" everyone said.
The logic is there as you smirk to yourself,
Making your way to another bed.
"To be fucked or get fucked" - that's the question,
And the answer has always been clear.
A little piece of heaven lost among hell upon hell,
The sex takes you away from here.
One label, one word springs straight to your head,
You admit to yourself forevermore.
As they go and they refuse to stop and you scream
"Fuck me like a whore".