I'm a problem

count your fucking blessings and notice how I'm not one of em

throw a wish in the well to make all 99 of your problems go away, although I'm pretty sure I can list 99 reasons why all 99 correspond to my existence

my brain spills out of my mouth and fills your mind with fumes that make you forget who you are for a little while

nobody notices the corpse laying in my bed

cant be trusted not to tell a soul (cant be trusted not to sell your soul)

I bite and I scratch and I give you wounds that you will never heal from

your hands are warm but when I hold them my heart feels cold

I feel like nothing at all

I am nothing

but a problem