I hate myself

more than I ever let on. I'm burned out at 22. I lived too fast and I loved too much and I'll die too young, but I chose this cup that I drank from. Knew what I was getting into. But I couldn't let out what I had to keep in. I'm ashamed of myself and unspeakable sins that I've committed and I've made mistakes, but I'll find my way. There's no explanation for the things I've failed at before. They can't hold my hand. It just hurts to be a woman through the tortures of the damned. If I only had an axe, I'd sever the ties I've made with the world. Maybe I can be a stranger, in a strange place. If I start now, maybe I can be saved. If I only had a mask, I'd cover these bleeding eyes. They're bloodshot now but they'll be black by dawn. If I wake up now, I can be pure again. Look at me now, I'm on the tracks with my back towards the last train leaving town.