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
Lacrate…
My only way to feel myself alive …
Is to b dead