Lately I've found myself wishing that I could light myself on fire.
As every inch of my skin peeled off and turned to ash.
And all of this ache and pain
would be less then this flame engulfing me.
Lately I've been keeping secrets.
But these stains on my sheets won't wash out.
And these bruises won't fade,
These scabs won't heal.
I'll paint my nails red so my mother won't know.
But no mixture of soap and water
could wash away this shame
this guilt.
Lately I've found myself wishing that I could light myself on fire.
I like this. A lot.
I like this.
A lot.
Can never think of what to say. Contradiction Incarnate.
A lonely contradiction. Contrasola