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Defeated and broken
I need help from myself.
This path of self destruction will kill.
My bottom needs to hit for me to move forward.
I still am alone and twirling my hair.
Sitting up all night hating my life and wondering
I am addicted to sex and alcohol.
I wish I can be sober and know where I am.
I just know I love myself and I feel like I am a hole.
Like a dark chord that I can never play but embrace the lyrical motive.
My tears are quick and one day they will vanish.
Images of my beer bottle broken and cutting into my skin
I told you that one day this will not be a day dream
I will keep quiet and it will be easier for you

My life is at my fingertips and I ponder death like itís an option. I am evaluating the end of my life and finding ways to carry onto a better place of darkness. Hell if death is like a dream then why would I not like to commit suicide? I love being high, my barrier is released and I just want to be in a head change. Get me high but I am afraid of the hard drug. I will be addicted and the problem will worsen, but is this the bottom I need? My dissatisfaction I could only see as a junkie. Claw my back and fuck me twice for me to realize I love the pain. We can sing and fuck and ponder the lifeís very existence. Why do not settle for something, a construction worker or a clerk. The victim of working for low wages, and having this limited life. The only escape in a blue collar class is getting high.




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The following comments are for "The underground man (part of chapter 2)"
by NucleusFire





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