Emotional Euthanasia

Immature words and stories escape your lips like sirens from an ambulance racing to the hospital. A precious cargo; your tortured heart that will not let go, but thrives off of hurting others. Racing through the streets faster than your stories change you run all the stop signs, and crash through barricades.
Your cold, hard exterior decorated with bright colors and flashy lights cover up the poisons you hide inside. What could be used to mend, you also use to harm, and then play the role of the hero. I beg of you, find the pulse of this "friendship", and because it's breathing shallow and fading fast. Revolving lights mimic the heads of many as your vindictive ways cause heads to spin. This is some kind of game to you. Euthanasia, resuscitation not included.