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Wasted
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Poetry So I've done it again, went away and ripped another hole in the world.
I don't ask for forgiveness and I don't ask for pity and sympathy.
Fact of the matter is that I simply don't care anymore.
The track marks are on my arms, the circles are under my eyes,
Dirt is under my black fingernails and the unknown is in bed next to me.
Sex and candy for the little whore-child in the hot pink dress,
Drugs and rock 'n' roll for the Gothic princess in black leather.
Take another pill, snort another line, go home tripping.
Pay my way, count to ten, add another fast fuck to my list.
So I've done it again, disappeared and came back metamorphisized.
I don't care if I hurt you or me. Forgive me, I'm a sadomasochist.
I went out and I got wasted, little girl playing grown-up games.
I still don't know what I'm doing. Someone give me a reason why I did this.
