Thin brown lines scar your wrists,
the mirror shows a reflection which you do not approve of,
number after number, you aimlessly count the calories as if they'll bite you,
you tear your skin apart piece by piece just to feel something other than broken,
you inject the needle with the drugs , pop the pills as if, maybe just maybe, it'll help you feel just a little less .. you, you take a hit off the guy at the corner soon he becomes the one you say you love, when really you love the drugs, you love the adrenaline of having someone that could get caught at any moment,
he tells you you're the one he loves, the one he wants, every word slips off his tongue as if said a million times, but you don't ever hear it,
so you do it, you give him your all, then he drops you,
you then realize you were nothing to him, everything he said was a trick to get to you, to get inside you,
so you walk out with a smile like everything is okay, when really you'd rather tie a noose around your neck and hang yourself then face another day, that's the thing about pain, although feeling it hurts, you deal with it until someone comes along to take it away.