'Defective'
kept a knife under my pillow cried to it like you cry to god replaced my soul with empty words that i told myself guess that makes me defective but i've always believed that everything is pain with a mask and chemicals the kind that my brain craves i've danced around the chasms i've fallen in their depths i almost pulled myself out but my soul is caught inside guess that makes me defective but i've always believed that i was merely a doll made of plastic, defective missing some of my parts Written February 21st, 2002 © on Feb 21 2002 01:01 PM PST 18 • 0 • 1
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"kept a knife under my pillow..."