Guttural moan like a dying beast 
I’m standing but I’m on my knees 
Here it comes, the wave
The pain is not mine but my heart makes it bigger 
Out of my fingertips, pulsing
Pulsing
And my throat is tight and my heart is racing
It’s so hard to fight, back and forth pacing 
Give me a cigarette, sweet nicotine 
Give me a fifth, at least then I’ll float 
The wheel keeps turning, every time I 
Say no to destruction, I still want to cry 
Weed, Mary Jane, LSD
The wheel keeps spinning, 
And I’m trying not to make this about me, but there’s that spinning wheel again
Burn
Cut razor blade oh it feels so good
Not my pain (but why does it hurt so bad?), push it aside 
Because my mind is racing and I can’t decide 
How much of this is my BPD
and how much is just…me