I cry but no on hears,
i want to die but no one cares.
I say it's time,
too meet my friend again.
So i pull out my box,
and find my blade,
and i smile,
i know i'll be happy again,
i choose a spot,
just by my hip,
where no one will see it,
and i start to rip,
i tear through my skin,
as tears flood my face,
there is no pain,
this isn't a race.
Blood trickles down,
and a smile appears,
all of my pain,
disappears.
So if you ever,
get real low,
meet my friend,
say hello,
grab a blade,
and cut your leg,
or put on a fake smile instead.
