Living this lie,
I feel like a fool.
Disguising myself,
And trying to act cool.
If they could only see inside,
And see the real me that I hide,
I wonder if I'd still have these urges to die?
I don't know the answers,
So instead of take chances,
I'll lay in my bed all covered in slashes,
I'll weep 'til I sleep,
and hope that something will emerge from these ashes.
