So sure, like my mama said,
When i'm 15 I will surly be dead
Because of the way I hurt myself,
It’s causing me grief, making it all worse,
She says that I’m not depressed,
Because I’m still that little bird, sitting in the nest..
But what she don’t know, is the only reason I’m there,
Is because I cannot fly, I’m stuck here…
I’ve told her a million times,
That I was sorry about all the lies,
That I was sorry about the blood stained sheets,
I’m sorry that the knifes that I use,
They become so blunt after a couple of days,
So tell me, what have I done wrong…
Using a knife, while listening to a song,
A song I plan to make my last,
This knife I use to conceal the past…
It does work, for a few seconds, I almost forget,
I almost smile, but after I’ve cut, it all comes back..
So I fall back on my bed and the dirty knife lies on my lap…
The taste of salt comes to my mouth,
A tear runs down my cheek..
But I don’t make a sound…
I often say stupid things, it scares people way,
Labels me a freak, but I’m happy this way…
I like to sit alone, I like to be in silence
I like the darkness around me, I like the feel of ice,
Because I’m to blame for a lot of things,
I just want to forget, I just want to be at peace,
I just want the whole world to dissolve before my eyes,
I just want it all to disappear, want it all to out of my mind,
Why can\'t it just all go away?..
