I committed something I regret
For a bit of attention.
I am desperate now,
For you to see me again,
Yet, you don't want to.
It's a cycle,
It always repeats itself,
The feeling of skin on skin.
The pain of doing something forbidden.
The fear of ending it,
And the pleasure of feeling it.
It makes me feel alive
But dead at the same time—
A walking corpse,
A bag of blood and flesh,
Yearning for something
That doesn't belong to me.
