Outside the wind blows,
Inside the girls eyes close,
Into her wrist goes the knife,
She's trying to end her life,
She thinks of the things she never got to say,
And the things that kept wrecking her day,
She lies down on her bed,
Wishing she was dead,
She looks at the things she wrote,
Then slits her own throat,
She's one me the very few,
Whos wish actually comes true
