Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god

I didn't know that would happen...

How was I to know?
The cuts, the blades, the stabs?
All part of my makeup...
To dine elsewhere, sin.
To hold it in is like holding fire,
You always get burned.
And I have a pain fetish,
And a fire one too.
I close my eyes and dream
My soul ablaze with sanity.
How beautiful it must feel
To not be marred by mental illness.
Is it a hand I would hold?
A cup I would drink from?
A window I would smash out of boredom?
I need help?
No, I need to run far away
And find the me that escaped years ago.
She needs to come home,
Her side of the personality is getting dusty.


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I didn`t know that would happen...

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