Tell them i killed myself,
Tell them i died,
Tell them of all the tears,
That no one knew i cried.
Tell them i was sick of living a lie,
And pretending all was great,
When really nothing was fine,
Tell them i was sick of all that i hate.
Tell them the pain was too much to take,
That little by little my life became more a waste,
That each smile i made was painted on fake,
That the salt in my tears became and aquired taste.
Tell them of the pain i wore under my sleeves,
Tell them of the cuts that dance on my arm,
From my elbow to my wrist,
But don't be alarmed.
Tell them i'm happy now that i'm gone,
That my names just a word,
And my life just a song,
I'll prove this wasn't wrong.
