Devils drug

Mixed personalities stuck within one

You are only scared of yourself, the faithful in none

Vision getting blurred with your mind turning always

She never gets better, no thrill with her days

She craves the sight of blood, it meant control

Begging if one day she will become whole,

Cleaning and scraping the darkness gone from your sight

She could look up and see the hazzy psychedelic light

Getting out of bed is a chore of its own, like breathing

But not even herself can give her any meaning