When Life Run on Razorblades...

Every night I try to disintoxicate myself
From this existence

Lacerating ...

It doesn't matter if internally
Or just my surface ...

I lacerate...

As everything becomes more pleasant
Little by little that the blood awakes my limbs
I understand my failure as a human being
Created for dying ... But not destined
To comprehend life

This melancholy that pervades my body
An arcane mortal call
In this perverse and cruel life

Lacerate.

My only way to feel myself alive ...
Is to be dead