Measure This..

A scream of pain
now that the silence holds pure disdain
the normality of the universe, can sustain..

The pressure of the most, i can't hold
id rather die off and flat out mold
and be nothing, not with out you.. i'd be the one waiting in the cold..

Just for you..

The noise made by the screams of this razor,
are not even close to that measure..
of my pain that i stuff inside holding on to you.
id rather die, just for your pleasure.

I slit my wrist..
just for this crimson mist..
that's not enough, i slit my throat..
just to build this moat,
to get away from them..
From you..

i cant.