Damaged Goods

I wanna scream sometimes, some days,
but I'm afraid.
That I won't be able to stop screamin,
and people will see, the real me.
And know what a mess I am,
that I'm damaged goods.

I wanna scream sometimes, some days,
but I'm afraid.
So I swallow down my scream,
with a little food, a lot of food.
I feel refreshed and clean,
as I heave and retch and puke.
They don�t know what a mess I am,
that I'm damaged goods.

I wanna scream sometimes, some days,
but I'm afraid.
So I bleed instead.
I wanna scratch away my skin.
Cutting, slicing, dicing, chopping, feeling?
and I smile as the blood flows,
coz no one knows what a mess I am
that I'm damaged goods.

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