Would you be my little cut?
Would you be my thousand fucks?

I'm a fake.

This is the part where I go blaablaahblahblaaah.

blaablaahblahblaaah.

okay fine.

Small, simple, safe price

Rise the wake and carry me with all of my regrets

This is not a small cut that scabs, and dries, and flakes, and heals

And I am not afraid to die

I'm not afraid to bleed, and fuck, and fight.

I want the pain of payment

What's left, but a section of pigmy size cuts

Much like a slew of a thousand unwanted fucks

Would you be my little cut?

Would you be my thousand fucks?

And make mark leaving space for the guilt to be liquid

To fill, and spill over, and under my thoughts

My sad, sorry, selfish cry out to the cutter

I'm cutting trying to picture your black broken heart

Love is not like anything

Especially a fucking knife

nice.

i'm not in the mood. don't bother me.