A p***k in the arm,
A slit of the wrist,
A flame to your hand,
Just to make you feel alive.
All the crazy things we do,
Just to feel alive.
We can't stand being numb even for a moment.
We have to be excited, energized,
Revived and,
Alive
Why do we do all these little things?
Forcing a knife though our skin,
Just trying to feel.
Our tears have abandonded us,
This is all we have left.
A feeling of love,
Happiness and sadness,
Can't satisfy the craving for reality,
For pain.
Why do we do all these little things?
Getting high,
Just to feel alive.
Creating an illusion to fend off the surreal.
Maybe a lover could help fill the void,
But where would we find such a person?
We end up looking in all the wrong places,
Searching the faces of strangers.
Why do we do all these little things?
Sneaking out where we shouldn't,
Rebelling to anything we can,
Just to create some excitement.
A p***k in the arm,
A slit of the wrist,
A flame to your hand,
A touch on your skin,
Diluting your pupils,
Rebelling to life,
Just trying to feel.
SadistikMasochist Community Member 
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