I Do It Again
We all get our kicks in different ways,
And Lord knows I get mine.
But I always push the boundry too far,
It's never "the last time".
Whether it's playing mind games,
Or making wounds upon my skin,
Just this once is never enough,
The thrill comes from the sin.
The things that make me hate myself,
Are the things that keep me going.
It's a way of deflecting my flaws from others,
Keeping my hurt from showing.
Maybe I enjoy playing games with people,
So they can feel what I feel.
I know they never asked for a piece of my mind,
But the power is such an appeal.
But as well as hurting others, I hurt myself,
I get something from the pain.
That's why the blade never rests for long,
It's something I find hard to explain.
I'm not doing what I think is best,
But just what feels right.
I did it yesterday, I'll do it tomorrow,
And I know I'll do it tonight.
They say you learn from your mistakes,
Well I must be the exception.
Because if I've done it once,
I know I'll do it again.
Comments on this poem/writing:
|Mike (18.104.22.168) -- Friday, May 27 2005, 05:42 pm|
I know the feeling. There's something hypnotising about the blood coming out. It just makes you want to draw more and more.
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