FORGOTTEN SOUL (MY SELF-MUTILATION)

FORGOTTEN SOUL (MY SELF-MUTILATION)

I pick the scab that never heals,

For my sickness likes how it feels,

Some might call it self-mutilation,

I call it my release and in it I find elation,

An exhilarating buzz to know I bleed,

A sense of satisfaction from which I feed,

To know that which sustains life oozes from me,

I exude blood too you see,

I breathe, I laugh, I cry,

And like you I live, I die,

Sometimes I just become so frustrated and angry,

It often seems this world has forgotten about me,

But I know I must hold on,

And although I feel the pain, I must stay strong,

I know in this world I’m not alone,

But it’s easy to think you’re always on your own,

I am a forgotten soul tonight,

Trying to escape the fight,

The battle rages in my mind,

And the good soldiers are getting weary you’ll find,

I don’t understand why,

Didn’t God hear my outcry?

I’ve lost my way this day,

Love, have you abandoned me amidst the fray?

Are you going to leave me to die here?

Or will you help me survive without fear?

My grasp is becoming weaker by the hour,

All that is divine, lend me the power,

To stave off ghostly demons and their control,

For I’d rather die than give the devil my soul,

I may be forgotten tonight,

But I know what is right,

So tonight I’ll pick at the wound that never heals,

For I’m one who enjoys how the rush of warm blood feels,

Leave me to my own devices, let me seek pleasure in pain,

Shun me and call me a freak, for I’ll simply just do it again,

I am a forgotten soul,

Living in a world so cold.

-brad