#34 - Fake Pink Diamonds

Dusty glass bottles, green and orange-brown, holding cheap pills.

Easy addiction, internal bleeding, torn apart and pissing blood,

Locked in the dark, this tiny room shaken by the pulsating hearbeats of

 Destroyed drum 'n' bass. The nightclub in the basement, hotter than hell.


Four in the morning, eyes wide and blank, a blade in hand.

Time to open another vein, they are all pierced from needles,

No room left for mistakes (so don't f**k it up).


Fake pink diamonds set on a blackened band of metal,

Scratch at my wrists with these faux-jewels.

Picking the lock on the doorway to hell, graceless demise

Of a girl who was never really alive.

The End

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