The way you make me

suffer is so sweet.

It makes me feel alive,

reminds me that I can still care

sometimes.

 

Wreckage and pain,

but none of us are to blame.

It's just the friction of two souls,

trying to make it in this life game.

 

Why why why why

don't I just walk away?

What intrigues me enough to stay?

You're the dagger that makes me 

write poetry.

 

And I think I need the art

more than I need the love.

Because the art IS my love

and the drama is my passion.

Pain is something that will

never go out of fashion.

 

We just love to talk about it,

and wonder why we're so addicted.

It's a sickness inflicted at the time

of infancy from our parent's addictions.

Genetic to dwell on twisted.

Satisfying to lick our lips

when they're already bleeding.

 

I'd rather be dead.

I'd rather be insane. 

Than never have felt pain.