bleeding

you know life's a funny thing, but it's really just a bitch, so i salt another wound, just to satisfy the itch, and these cuts become scars, with a line for every line, buried in the past, no way to tell if it hurts, bleed out of my misery, invoke my wrath on my own self, to make you hurt, and there's something in the way, if i ever find the message, is it for you or for me, what can you promise me, that doesn't leave, love, or lie, i couldn't imagine, that one is just too many, when a dozen's just a few, i watch you waste away, if i take my own hand, and i turn it against myself, does that mean i have free will, or am i just a fucking pawn, i don't think i have a fucking chance, that's how it is on this bitch of an earth, what are you waiting for, it's your move, motherfucker