one million fist-fights



in this room of shit
keep fighting off devils
with blood-soaked hurt
i feel razor sharp severs

hate is the normal emotion
willing me close to the edge
stunned by a lack of connection
sinking deep into my dredge

thin is the line, between myself and death
the bloodlet ensues, burning itself in my chest

anger means nothing again
like a million other fights
pride is a black stain
that just won't turn out right

my life is a refrain
from striving for anything
never knowing a true pain
just this soul i am wasting