Come crashing down, o violent hand.
Bring quickly your excruciating pain,
Long remembered, like burning summer days.
A thought, a thought enters my mind,
What paradise, what heaven!
The tingling feeling of numbness.
It is just a game. Or is it more?
The addictivness drives me insane,
As I wait for more, anticipating the hurt.
There is no escape, I don't want to lose.
Mind boggling excitement,
What is the point of feeling my hands?
Red chapped, white blisters, black bruises,
A result from the released anger,
But o the thrill, o the pain.
In the instant relief of mottled agitation.
Yet is there a consequence, a trap?
Once you are hooked, you can never stop.
Taking in the hurt like a drug.
Hungry for more, craving for more,
Until there is no more.
No slaps left to be borrowed.
Cast aside from the dealing table,
Shut away by your friends.
Left alone at the corner,
Feeling used, feeling discarded,
Feeling cheap like a child whore.
Now, you realize it wasn't a game.
All it was, was a fad.
Time to find something new.
A search for a different group,
Another friends to leech on.
Waiting for the next fad to come and go,
Then to start again.
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