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by Paula Jan 10, 2005 category : Sadness, depression / about depression
I'm sick of life I'm always sad I'm hanging on But I'm really getting mad I just wish I was happy One day of my life I'm sick of cutting slits With the sharp blade of my knife I go to bed at night My brain must just want more I start to have a dream of me laying on the floor Blood all around me I hear my favorite band I wake up screaming With a knife in my hand --Please coment or vote--