Confessing

It hadn't been very great the past week
i had been very secretive
pain and hurt were what people would seek
and you were way too protective

you saw that i had cut
and then i had to confess
the door, behind me, you shut
so that you could hear the rest

i told you what i had done in the past
and what i was still doing
the smoking pot didn't last
the thing that did, was drinking

and cutting let out all the pain
all the hurt i felt inside
outside it was pouring rain
from everything, i couldn't hide