This Blade Cuts Deep
001;
You were the reason I stopped, and I never thought that you would be the reason I started again.
Save the scars
Hide your face
I've done
Read your mind
Well, my perception on deception
And this will to lie is changing
I stand directly in front of the stage, watching as my boyfriend prances around with the microphone held up to his lips. I’ve known him since we were little; toddlers to be exact. We met when my family moved in next door to his.
If you were to look up the term ‘model family’ in the dictionary, you would see two pictures side by side; one of them being of my family, the other, of his. Back then, at least.
Our families became fast friends; our dad’s helping each other work on their cars, not because they needed to be fixed, but because it was a hobby they both enjoyed. Our mothers would sit at the kitchen table and gossip, sharing recipes with one another as they watched the four of us kids out of the corners of their eyes.
There was my older sister Emily, who was eight, and Ronnie’s older brother Randy, who was ten. They were cute together, even though at first they were reluctant to play with each other. They were still in that ‘ew! Boys have cooties!’ stage, but after some persuasion from our parents, they became friends as well. Randy almost became like an older brother to Emily; they’d walk together to the bus stop every morning, and he’d make sure that she was always taken care of at school. But much to my mother’s disappointment, it never evolved into anything more than a friendship.
Then there was Ronnie and I. We were both three years old when we met, and I have this hazy memory of hiding behind my dad’s legs while my mother tried to coerce me out to play with this boy that I’d never seen before. I was a very shy child. And our relationship quickly grew into something more.
I say quickly because he and I shared our first kiss on Halloween of our second grade year. Our parents decided to dress us up as Antony and Cleopatra, and they thought it was only necessary that we play the part right. We were a little gross out by it at first, but then once our lips touched…
If you can know that you’re supposed to spend your life with someone at the age of six, then I knew right then.
But everyone told me it was always nothing more than a crush. It couldn’t be anything more than that at that age. I guess we showed them.
It's ripping me and tempting me
To give you this gun
But all the time that you have lied
I've known what you done
So save the scars and hide your face
Keep your form and keep your pace
Don't lose control, never leave my side
You've earned your wings and you will never die
I bounce up and down with the music, laughing as Ronnie’s hair flops in front of his eyes. He really does need a haircut. But he won’t let anyone come near him with a pair of scissors.
It’s almost as if he hears my laughter over the music blaring from the speakers. He turns his head in my direction and his chocolate brown eyes lock onto my startling blue ones. He smiles softly and blows me a kiss, which I catch and place against my heart. I’ve never loved someone as much as I love this awkward boy in front of me, and I don’t think it is possible to love someone more.
If I’m being honest with myself, I’ll admit that I knew there was something special about Ronnie from the moment I met him. Yes, even at just three years old.
The first part of our childhood was amazing, to say the least. We were both happy kids, with the perfect families.
Then things went bad.
My father was in the military; a sergeant in the Marines. A big guy with lots of muscle, and he had this air about him that let you know just who you were messing with. You really didn’t want to get on his bad side. But if you were on his good side, you had it made. He was like a giant teddy bear.
The summer before I turned seven, the Gulf War started, and my dad was one of the first ones to be shipped out. And although the war only lasted for a total of six months, Operation Desert Storm didn’t officially end until November of 1995, and my dad was overseas for about 80% of that time.
It was weird not having him at home, but we managed. After all, we were a military family. He got a two week leave to come home at the end of 1994 and was able to spend Christmas and new years’ with us. It was a nice Christmas, but none of us realized that it would be our last Christmas together,
I was eleven, and I was rebelling early. Sneaking out in the middle of the night, cursing. Nothing too bad, of course. But still, my father didn’t like that, and during that Christmas holiday, he sat me down and told me that I couldn’t be doing that anymore.
I got hateful with him and told him that he had no right to tell me what to do because he was never around. Even though I knew it wasn’t really his fault. Because of the things I said to him, he grounded me. I told him I hated him.
Two weeks after he left again, his vehicle hit a landmine and we were unfortunate enough to get that call that all military families dread. I blamed myself; I thought that if I’d just told him I loved him, instead of telling him that I hated him, he would’ve been more careful and been able to come home.
Ronnie, being the great friend that he was, tried to comfort me. But it only lasted for a about a month. Until his mother left.
A lot of people seem to think that she left when he was really little, which isn’t the case. He was eleven. He has more memories of her than he lets on. But after she left, we both became absorbed in our own self pity, blaming ourselves, and grew apart.
The structure falls
They circle our foundation
As the soil cracks
And everything is burning down
After Ronnie’s set finishes, he hops off the stage and wraps his sweaty arms around me, lifting me into the air and spinning me in circles.
I toss my head back, laughing happily as I wrap my arms around his neck. Once he sets me back down onto my feet, he pulls back just enough to look down into my eyes. I feel as if I see a part of myself as I look back at him. His eyes are so deep, so clear that it causes my head to spin.
There’s hundreds of people around us, all yelling to one another to be heard over the music the DJ turned on that plays from the speakers, but I can hear him as if we were laying in our bed, alone in a quiet room as he whispers, “I love you.”
The summer of 1998 and the summer before my sophomore year of high school, was the summer that Ronnie and I finally started talking again. It wasn’t much, just a simple hello as we passed each other while walking down the street in front of our houses.
I wouldn’t admit it, but I missed him, and our friendship so much that it hurt. After my dad passed away, and I lost the only friend who really meant anything to me, I cut myself off from the rest of my friends. In doing that, I lost all outlets that helped me cope with what I was feeling. So I turned to cutting.
Whenever anyone was home, I always made sure I was wearing long sleeves. Even if it was the middle of summer. If you’ve ever been to Las Vegas in the middle of the summer, you know that wearing long sleeves is not the most comfortable thing ever. But I did it.
One particular afternoon in the middle of July, my sister Emily was at her boyfriends house. She was hardly ever home, but I didn’t really complain a whole lot. We didn’t get along that great, and my mom was at work.
I was laying out in the backyard, sunbathing in a pink and white bikini. I wasn’t paying any attention to anything around me; I was too busy staring up at the pale blue sky, finding shapes in the few wispy clouds that hovered high above the ground. When a shadow fell over me and broke my concentration, I finally realized that I wasn’t as alone as I thought.
“What do you want?” I asked, looking up at the tall, slender figure of the boy who used to be my best friend. He cracked a crooked smile down at me then moved to sit on the concrete beside me. I sighed, sitting myself up and bringing my knees up to my chest, “Have you lost your ability to speak, Radke?”
“Whoa,” he chuckled, holding up his hands in defense as he curled his legs under him. His voice had gotten deep since the last time we spoke, and it had taken on a certain raspiness that caused my skin to erupt in goosebumps. “You looked bored, so I thought I’d come say hi.”
I rolled my eyes and pulled my sunglasses down onto the bridge of my nose. Once my eyes were hidden, I allowed myself to let my eyes roam over his figure. His ears were now pierced and his hair was a little longer than it had been in a while, but it just barely brushed the tops of his ears.
“Sorry,” I grumbled, as a frown tugged at the corners of my lips. “But that still doesn’t answer my question. I don’t believe that you just thought I ‘looked bored’ and decided to come keep my company.”
He blew his bangs back off his forehead and sat back, resting himself on the palms of his hands, “I miss you. You were my best friend, and now we’re nothing more than strangers.” I subtly nodded my head, deciding that I couldn’t look at him anymore then laid myself back down onto my towel. I felt his eyes rake up and down my body before he whispered, “What happened?”
“What do you mean?” I asked, confused. He reached his hand forward and let his fingers trace the scars littering the inside of my bare arm. I frowned and pulled it away from him, then whispered back, “Nothing happened.”
“When did you start cutting?” he said, then gulped audibly.
I weakly shrugged my shoulders and closed my eyes, “About a month after we stopped talked.”
He took a sharp intake of breath and we fell silent. Before I knew what was happening, his warm lips were pressed against mine. I froze at the touch and slowly opened my eyes to look up at him. His eyes were open as well and he stared down at me, then slowly started moving his lips against mine.
We kissed.
We kissed like never before. As he pulled away from me, his eyes locked onto mine, he whispered, “Let me help you.”
That was the moment that I realized I was in love with Ronnie Radke. He never left my side after that, and we slowly began rebuilding our friendship, then that friendship began to morph into something much, much more. I haven’t cut since that day, and it’s been six years.
These enemies have breached
The line with swords in hand
Held to the sky
Heal these wounds
Find a place to rest
Concentrate on the call
(Hello)
Our fathers on the other end
Shortly after the show ends that night, Ronnie and I head back to our place. His friends are over as well, and they’re having a party. Drugs litter every smooth surface in the house, and I’d be lying if I said I was comfortable with that fact. No matter how hard I try to convince Ronnie to quit, to let me help him the way he helped me, he refuses.
“I’m gonna go on to bed,” I murmur, leaning up and softly kissing Ronnie’s lips.
He pouts down at me, his hands resting on my hips, “Do you have to? It just won’t be the same without you.”
“Yeah,” I sigh, sinking my teeth into my bottom lip. “I have to get up and get to work early in the morning, so I need to get some sleep.”
“Alright,” he nods, leaning down and placing another kiss onto my lips. I smile softly before pulling away, running my hands down the length of his tattooed arms. He grins as I take a step back away from him, “I’ll be up before long.”
It's ripping me and tempting me
To give you this gun
But all the time that you have lied
I've known what you done
“I love you,” I smile, cocking my head to the side and blowing him a kiss.
A wide smile breaks out onto his lips at my words, “I love you, too, baby. Sweet dreams.”
I nod, turning and walking down the hallway to the bedroom that Ronnie and I share. Stepping inside, I turn on the light, illuminating the room. I walk over to the bet up dresser that rests against the far wall, shedding my clothes along the way. Reaching inside the second drawer, I pull out a pair of booty shorts and an old band shirt of Ronnie’s, pulling them on. I go back across the room and flip off the overhead light, shrouding the room in darkness, then pad silently across the worn carpet to the bed.
As I crawl in between the sheets, my happy smile is still in place on my lips. I’m the happiest I’ve ever been when I’m near Ronnie, and no one but him could ever come close to making me feel this way.
So save the scars and hide your face
Keep your form and keep your pace
Don't lose control, never leave my side
You've earned your wings and you will never die
Later that night, I awake to an empty bed. Ronnie and a couple of his friends more than likely passed out in the living room; it’s not like it would be the first time. Sighing, I sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed, pulling myself to my feet.
I cross the room to the door and pull it open, glancing at the alarm clock resting on the nightstand next to the bed. 4:14 a.m. As I pad out into the hall, I notice that all of the lights are still on, but the house is relatively silent, which means that everyone is either passed out, or gone for the night.
I peek into the living room to see a bunch of male bodies sprawled out on the floor, fast asleep. Chuckling to myself, I shake my head and walk over to the closed door of the tiny bathroom, quiet pushing it open.
The sight that meets my eyes as I do is one that I never thought I would see. Max’s girlfriend is up on the counter, her legs spread wide. Ronnie stands in between her thighs, their lips attached. They’re both naked.
As I watch, I realize that Ronnie is having his way with her, thrusting into her fast and hard. Loud moans slip from her lips as she tugs on his hair.
My stomach churns at the sight and tears flood my eyes. This can’t be happening. There’s no way that Ronnie would do something like this to me. But it is happening.
The structure falls
They circle our foundation
As the soil cracks
And everything is burning down
The enemies
Have breached the line
With swords in hand
Held to the sky
A sob builds in my throat and I turn, running back down the short hallway to the bedroom and slamming the door behind me, flipping the lock. My entire body trembles as I quickly cross the room to the dresser, pulling open the top drawer. I reach into the back, to where I keep a straightedge razor. I kept it as a reminder of who I was, and who I never wanted to be again.
I never thought that I would end up using it again.
But I do.
I pull out the small bundle of cloth that I keep it wrapped in and pull it out, letting my shaking fingers wrap around the cool metal.
Sobs rip from my chest as I lean against the wall, sliding down to the floor. Everything is nothing but a blur as I place the sharp blade to my wrist. It pricks my skin almost instantly, and is followed by a small bead of blood.
I don’t feel the pain.
There is no physical pain; only emotional.
I roughly drag the blade down the length of my forearm and revel in the sight of the sticky, crimson liquid pouring from my torn flesh. My head spins at the sight, and I cant seem to get enough.
I raise the blade back to my wrist, digging it back into my skin before drawing another line down my arm. The joy I get from it is like that of a sick artist as their painting finally starts coming together on the canvas before them.
I don’t want to stop, and I know I won’t until someone either stops me, or my blood runs black. And I die.
I knew
A liar that blinded my eyes
Covered them with ribbons
A soul tries so hard to explode
But my flesh always gives in
I knew a liar that blinded my eyes.
You were the reason I stopped, and I never thought that you would be the reason I started again.
Save the scars
Hide your face
I've done
Read your mind
Well, my perception on deception
And this will to lie is changing
I stand directly in front of the stage, watching as my boyfriend prances around with the microphone held up to his lips. I’ve known him since we were little; toddlers to be exact. We met when my family moved in next door to his.
If you were to look up the term ‘model family’ in the dictionary, you would see two pictures side by side; one of them being of my family, the other, of his. Back then, at least.
Our families became fast friends; our dad’s helping each other work on their cars, not because they needed to be fixed, but because it was a hobby they both enjoyed. Our mothers would sit at the kitchen table and gossip, sharing recipes with one another as they watched the four of us kids out of the corners of their eyes.
There was my older sister Emily, who was eight, and Ronnie’s older brother Randy, who was ten. They were cute together, even though at first they were reluctant to play with each other. They were still in that ‘ew! Boys have cooties!’ stage, but after some persuasion from our parents, they became friends as well. Randy almost became like an older brother to Emily; they’d walk together to the bus stop every morning, and he’d make sure that she was always taken care of at school. But much to my mother’s disappointment, it never evolved into anything more than a friendship.
Then there was Ronnie and I. We were both three years old when we met, and I have this hazy memory of hiding behind my dad’s legs while my mother tried to coerce me out to play with this boy that I’d never seen before. I was a very shy child. And our relationship quickly grew into something more.
I say quickly because he and I shared our first kiss on Halloween of our second grade year. Our parents decided to dress us up as Antony and Cleopatra, and they thought it was only necessary that we play the part right. We were a little gross out by it at first, but then once our lips touched…
If you can know that you’re supposed to spend your life with someone at the age of six, then I knew right then.
But everyone told me it was always nothing more than a crush. It couldn’t be anything more than that at that age. I guess we showed them.
It's ripping me and tempting me
To give you this gun
But all the time that you have lied
I've known what you done
So save the scars and hide your face
Keep your form and keep your pace
Don't lose control, never leave my side
You've earned your wings and you will never die
I bounce up and down with the music, laughing as Ronnie’s hair flops in front of his eyes. He really does need a haircut. But he won’t let anyone come near him with a pair of scissors.
It’s almost as if he hears my laughter over the music blaring from the speakers. He turns his head in my direction and his chocolate brown eyes lock onto my startling blue ones. He smiles softly and blows me a kiss, which I catch and place against my heart. I’ve never loved someone as much as I love this awkward boy in front of me, and I don’t think it is possible to love someone more.
If I’m being honest with myself, I’ll admit that I knew there was something special about Ronnie from the moment I met him. Yes, even at just three years old.
The first part of our childhood was amazing, to say the least. We were both happy kids, with the perfect families.
Then things went bad.
My father was in the military; a sergeant in the Marines. A big guy with lots of muscle, and he had this air about him that let you know just who you were messing with. You really didn’t want to get on his bad side. But if you were on his good side, you had it made. He was like a giant teddy bear.
The summer before I turned seven, the Gulf War started, and my dad was one of the first ones to be shipped out. And although the war only lasted for a total of six months, Operation Desert Storm didn’t officially end until November of 1995, and my dad was overseas for about 80% of that time.
It was weird not having him at home, but we managed. After all, we were a military family. He got a two week leave to come home at the end of 1994 and was able to spend Christmas and new years’ with us. It was a nice Christmas, but none of us realized that it would be our last Christmas together,
I was eleven, and I was rebelling early. Sneaking out in the middle of the night, cursing. Nothing too bad, of course. But still, my father didn’t like that, and during that Christmas holiday, he sat me down and told me that I couldn’t be doing that anymore.
I got hateful with him and told him that he had no right to tell me what to do because he was never around. Even though I knew it wasn’t really his fault. Because of the things I said to him, he grounded me. I told him I hated him.
Two weeks after he left again, his vehicle hit a landmine and we were unfortunate enough to get that call that all military families dread. I blamed myself; I thought that if I’d just told him I loved him, instead of telling him that I hated him, he would’ve been more careful and been able to come home.
Ronnie, being the great friend that he was, tried to comfort me. But it only lasted for a about a month. Until his mother left.
A lot of people seem to think that she left when he was really little, which isn’t the case. He was eleven. He has more memories of her than he lets on. But after she left, we both became absorbed in our own self pity, blaming ourselves, and grew apart.
The structure falls
They circle our foundation
As the soil cracks
And everything is burning down
After Ronnie’s set finishes, he hops off the stage and wraps his sweaty arms around me, lifting me into the air and spinning me in circles.
I toss my head back, laughing happily as I wrap my arms around his neck. Once he sets me back down onto my feet, he pulls back just enough to look down into my eyes. I feel as if I see a part of myself as I look back at him. His eyes are so deep, so clear that it causes my head to spin.
There’s hundreds of people around us, all yelling to one another to be heard over the music the DJ turned on that plays from the speakers, but I can hear him as if we were laying in our bed, alone in a quiet room as he whispers, “I love you.”
The summer of 1998 and the summer before my sophomore year of high school, was the summer that Ronnie and I finally started talking again. It wasn’t much, just a simple hello as we passed each other while walking down the street in front of our houses.
I wouldn’t admit it, but I missed him, and our friendship so much that it hurt. After my dad passed away, and I lost the only friend who really meant anything to me, I cut myself off from the rest of my friends. In doing that, I lost all outlets that helped me cope with what I was feeling. So I turned to cutting.
Whenever anyone was home, I always made sure I was wearing long sleeves. Even if it was the middle of summer. If you’ve ever been to Las Vegas in the middle of the summer, you know that wearing long sleeves is not the most comfortable thing ever. But I did it.
One particular afternoon in the middle of July, my sister Emily was at her boyfriends house. She was hardly ever home, but I didn’t really complain a whole lot. We didn’t get along that great, and my mom was at work.
I was laying out in the backyard, sunbathing in a pink and white bikini. I wasn’t paying any attention to anything around me; I was too busy staring up at the pale blue sky, finding shapes in the few wispy clouds that hovered high above the ground. When a shadow fell over me and broke my concentration, I finally realized that I wasn’t as alone as I thought.
“What do you want?” I asked, looking up at the tall, slender figure of the boy who used to be my best friend. He cracked a crooked smile down at me then moved to sit on the concrete beside me. I sighed, sitting myself up and bringing my knees up to my chest, “Have you lost your ability to speak, Radke?”
“Whoa,” he chuckled, holding up his hands in defense as he curled his legs under him. His voice had gotten deep since the last time we spoke, and it had taken on a certain raspiness that caused my skin to erupt in goosebumps. “You looked bored, so I thought I’d come say hi.”
I rolled my eyes and pulled my sunglasses down onto the bridge of my nose. Once my eyes were hidden, I allowed myself to let my eyes roam over his figure. His ears were now pierced and his hair was a little longer than it had been in a while, but it just barely brushed the tops of his ears.
“Sorry,” I grumbled, as a frown tugged at the corners of my lips. “But that still doesn’t answer my question. I don’t believe that you just thought I ‘looked bored’ and decided to come keep my company.”
He blew his bangs back off his forehead and sat back, resting himself on the palms of his hands, “I miss you. You were my best friend, and now we’re nothing more than strangers.” I subtly nodded my head, deciding that I couldn’t look at him anymore then laid myself back down onto my towel. I felt his eyes rake up and down my body before he whispered, “What happened?”
“What do you mean?” I asked, confused. He reached his hand forward and let his fingers trace the scars littering the inside of my bare arm. I frowned and pulled it away from him, then whispered back, “Nothing happened.”
“When did you start cutting?” he said, then gulped audibly.
I weakly shrugged my shoulders and closed my eyes, “About a month after we stopped talked.”
He took a sharp intake of breath and we fell silent. Before I knew what was happening, his warm lips were pressed against mine. I froze at the touch and slowly opened my eyes to look up at him. His eyes were open as well and he stared down at me, then slowly started moving his lips against mine.
We kissed.
We kissed like never before. As he pulled away from me, his eyes locked onto mine, he whispered, “Let me help you.”
That was the moment that I realized I was in love with Ronnie Radke. He never left my side after that, and we slowly began rebuilding our friendship, then that friendship began to morph into something much, much more. I haven’t cut since that day, and it’s been six years.
These enemies have breached
The line with swords in hand
Held to the sky
Heal these wounds
Find a place to rest
Concentrate on the call
(Hello)
Our fathers on the other end
Shortly after the show ends that night, Ronnie and I head back to our place. His friends are over as well, and they’re having a party. Drugs litter every smooth surface in the house, and I’d be lying if I said I was comfortable with that fact. No matter how hard I try to convince Ronnie to quit, to let me help him the way he helped me, he refuses.
“I’m gonna go on to bed,” I murmur, leaning up and softly kissing Ronnie’s lips.
He pouts down at me, his hands resting on my hips, “Do you have to? It just won’t be the same without you.”
“Yeah,” I sigh, sinking my teeth into my bottom lip. “I have to get up and get to work early in the morning, so I need to get some sleep.”
“Alright,” he nods, leaning down and placing another kiss onto my lips. I smile softly before pulling away, running my hands down the length of his tattooed arms. He grins as I take a step back away from him, “I’ll be up before long.”
It's ripping me and tempting me
To give you this gun
But all the time that you have lied
I've known what you done
“I love you,” I smile, cocking my head to the side and blowing him a kiss.
A wide smile breaks out onto his lips at my words, “I love you, too, baby. Sweet dreams.”
I nod, turning and walking down the hallway to the bedroom that Ronnie and I share. Stepping inside, I turn on the light, illuminating the room. I walk over to the bet up dresser that rests against the far wall, shedding my clothes along the way. Reaching inside the second drawer, I pull out a pair of booty shorts and an old band shirt of Ronnie’s, pulling them on. I go back across the room and flip off the overhead light, shrouding the room in darkness, then pad silently across the worn carpet to the bed.
As I crawl in between the sheets, my happy smile is still in place on my lips. I’m the happiest I’ve ever been when I’m near Ronnie, and no one but him could ever come close to making me feel this way.
So save the scars and hide your face
Keep your form and keep your pace
Don't lose control, never leave my side
You've earned your wings and you will never die
Later that night, I awake to an empty bed. Ronnie and a couple of his friends more than likely passed out in the living room; it’s not like it would be the first time. Sighing, I sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed, pulling myself to my feet.
I cross the room to the door and pull it open, glancing at the alarm clock resting on the nightstand next to the bed. 4:14 a.m. As I pad out into the hall, I notice that all of the lights are still on, but the house is relatively silent, which means that everyone is either passed out, or gone for the night.
I peek into the living room to see a bunch of male bodies sprawled out on the floor, fast asleep. Chuckling to myself, I shake my head and walk over to the closed door of the tiny bathroom, quiet pushing it open.
The sight that meets my eyes as I do is one that I never thought I would see. Max’s girlfriend is up on the counter, her legs spread wide. Ronnie stands in between her thighs, their lips attached. They’re both naked.
As I watch, I realize that Ronnie is having his way with her, thrusting into her fast and hard. Loud moans slip from her lips as she tugs on his hair.
My stomach churns at the sight and tears flood my eyes. This can’t be happening. There’s no way that Ronnie would do something like this to me. But it is happening.
The structure falls
They circle our foundation
As the soil cracks
And everything is burning down
The enemies
Have breached the line
With swords in hand
Held to the sky
A sob builds in my throat and I turn, running back down the short hallway to the bedroom and slamming the door behind me, flipping the lock. My entire body trembles as I quickly cross the room to the dresser, pulling open the top drawer. I reach into the back, to where I keep a straightedge razor. I kept it as a reminder of who I was, and who I never wanted to be again.
I never thought that I would end up using it again.
But I do.
I pull out the small bundle of cloth that I keep it wrapped in and pull it out, letting my shaking fingers wrap around the cool metal.
Sobs rip from my chest as I lean against the wall, sliding down to the floor. Everything is nothing but a blur as I place the sharp blade to my wrist. It pricks my skin almost instantly, and is followed by a small bead of blood.
I don’t feel the pain.
There is no physical pain; only emotional.
I roughly drag the blade down the length of my forearm and revel in the sight of the sticky, crimson liquid pouring from my torn flesh. My head spins at the sight, and I cant seem to get enough.
I raise the blade back to my wrist, digging it back into my skin before drawing another line down my arm. The joy I get from it is like that of a sick artist as their painting finally starts coming together on the canvas before them.
I don’t want to stop, and I know I won’t until someone either stops me, or my blood runs black. And I die.
I knew
A liar that blinded my eyes
Covered them with ribbons
A soul tries so hard to explode
But my flesh always gives in
I knew a liar that blinded my eyes.
You were the reason I stopped, and I never thought that you would be the reason I started again.