The little white circles,
watching me cutting in to me,
im bleeding suffering staggering to think,
while the little white circles stand by without a care,
staring anxiously at the smooth texture,
daring not to tear away,
the power omitted is stronger than life,
that which is the power to take,
crying i lift my finger,
struggling to shake the little white cirle,
it taunts me speaks to me satan's best friend,
to give in is to die,
to continue is to suffer,
worst fear possible is continuing,
for hours we compete,
in an old fashioned dual,
daring each other to make a move,
growing tired cringing to stay awake,
the little white circles never exhaust,
they just mock my innocence taunt my temptation and convince me to halt it here,
they win out the little white circles,
as they always do,