Drink your cheap red wine,
hope someone cares,
motivated by those
half-interested stares.
You carry on though.
How could you? Still?
You’ve fucked up completely
just wanting a thrill.
Yet it doesn’t undo
the pain that you feel,
what could they be up to?
Your thoughts, they just reel.
A message, a photo
it’s all that you need,
to gather your anger
and release with a greed,
that spits out just like
venom in a snake.
You’re hungry for torture.
You’ve made a mistake.
