Being Able To Feel Nothing

My blood, my flesh, my veins
Play with me
My bones, my beast
Play with me

There's a starving beast inside my chest
Playing with me until he's bored
Then, slowly burying his tucks in my flesh
Crawling his way out he rips open old wounds

When I reach for the knife placed on
The bedside table, its blade reflects
My determined face to plant it in my chest
And carve a hole so deep it snaps my veins
Hollow me out, I want to feel empty

Where I could see my master's thorns
I'd start peeling the skin off his cheeks
And scratch his eyes until he could no longer see
The blood dripping on the white sheets of my bed
The stains I will never be able to remove

Dripping all over the floor, I would drag myself outside
As I open the front door the sun
Captures my weary face
The weight comes off, when I let go
It's so strange
Being able to feel nothing