Her pillow is stained
from the black satin tears
that flow from her eyes.
She looks up to Heaven,
Hair mastered against her face,
screaming her cries.
I hate the way I am,
what Iâ??ve become,
what I will never be.
From all the scars and cuts,
you will never see.
She screams inside her covers,
the pain you will never hear.
Squeezing the air out of her lungs
while dropping her satin tears.
Iâ??m still not heard, all I need is a sign.
I pray for death, not to be left behind.
Grasp my hand tightly,
pull me from this hell.
Iâ??ve dropped to my knees,
Iâ??ve already fell.
Can you save me from this life,
before I save myself?
Or must I spend it alone,
with this pain Iâ??ve always felt.
I can see their mouths moving,
but I donâ??t know whatâ??s coming out.
I can see the troubled expressions on their faces;
I think itâ??s called doubt.
Am I really slipping that fast,
unable to be caught?
Losing sense of reality,
realizing what Iâ??m not.
Screaming does no good,
when itâ??s all youâ??ve ever done.
Screaming to be set free,
to take that bullet out of that gun.
To take the blade off her arm,
she prays so deep at night,
one more scar to be her last.
One more cut to end all cuts,
one to end her burdening past.
She cries so much,
her tears becoming dry.
As she lays her head down,
to sleep for the night.
Another night has gone by,
she still lays in her bed.
Another night of praying,
praying to be dead.
