lusting for the sick pain wrenching up
making me feel vile and grotesque
making me get that rush of endorphins long enough
to sustain some feeling other than none at all

you might think I'm crazy
I may be, but I never care until the time comes
to where nothing adds up anymore
Irony, its a tricky thing
like the sudden burst of happiness
after your favorite three day bender
of your own personal poison

I am the monster beneath my bed
forcing the demons out of their hiding inside my mind
letting them run loose, for they are under my control
a masochist of sorts you may call me
but I am not, not at all
I am just looking for control finally

I want to have the say in how long I hold up my resist
I need to feel as if I can do anything
I feel invincible to everything but my own self destruction
too tough to let them make me cry
but I am too weak to pick a fight with myself

Pulling apart my insides, I search
trying to find the trigger to this pain
that which I can not push away, can not remove from my brain
my heart feels weak and my stomach is sick
to the voice telling me to just do it
sadly, its my own voice, to which I have no way to stop it

Don't look at me with ashamed eyes, you all do the same
you lust for something that will bring on guilt
never they same poison but always the same game
hopefully I will win this fight, resist my own disturbing pleas
and I hope that you will find your light, and set yourself free
I am still stumbling in the dark