I'm lying here on my bed
all these thoughts going thru my head
i glance at my window
it'd be so easy to open it and go
a thought comes to mind
i start to go blind
i hate who i am and start to cry
i need the knife and i want to die
i tear apart my room looking for relief
an hour later i stare in disbelief
when did i start bleeding?
why aren't i screaming?
i get angry and look at my arm
I'm mad at myself, now harmed
i did it again. there's blood on the floor
i get up and lock the door
i collapse against my wall
then i hear the silent call
i stop crying and drag myself up
i reach for the blade, and start to cut
a vicious cycle controls my life
led by a silver, ordinary knife
I'm sick of all this. i can't go on
it's been me by myself all along
thus the cycle starts again
i give up. circles don't end
