Pools of red devour the despair
in a pathetic act of desperation
as my veins scream for relief
my bloodstained eraser offers compensation
and from the reflection of my tool of infliction
i see your image staring into my tear-filled eyes
and with each strike it's burned into the marks i create
each crimson tear worth ten thousand cries
painfully living in the shadow of a tainted memory
the screams of the dying can't hope to compare
blackness and blankness tauntingly thriving
in my nearly unconcious, empty stare
so the question i leave with you, beg with you now,
is this what you wanted all along?
to live life with an amnesia-filled smile
while i play the tune of my razorblade song..?
