Pas droit

You think you're helping, but you only make things worse. Really, you don't help me no way.
Stop your stupid advices and glances. I'm sick.
I could say it again and again. I'm so sick. Leave me alone a fucking time, I'm tired! Fed up with everything!

I want to break the house down with a kick. I want to hear how it rumbles but all I see are my hands shaking. And this is worsening. Each time I hit harder, each time it hurts worse. The thoughts are the worst part. I want to bang my head against the wall, with all my strenght. Someday I'll finally do it.
Shit, I need control! I lie on the bed, I try to calm down myself. I close my eyes... but when I realize I'm biting my lips again. 'What can I do now? If I hit again, I'll get hurt.' Does it matter? Will it matter?


Listen, you. I'm fucked up. Don't want nothing from you.
I just want to burst, break, burn, bang until I drop down unconscious.

I'm sorry, guys.