"You won't be loved until your dying day."
Say the angels of self-harm and hate.
They fill her head with lies.
And secrets in disguise.
They place the blade within her reach.
Into her ear they speak.
"Cut your wrist it won't hurt a bit."
This is how her desire to die was lit.
The little angles of self-harm and hate came to her that dreadful day.
They gave her the knife and began to show her the way.
Leading her deeper into the dark.
Slowly ripping off bits of her heart.
They pushed her down to far.
Then opened her eyes to the slits on her arm.
Self-harm called out, "Todays the day."
Hate finished, "It's the end of the way."
"You chose to believe in our lies,
You should've assumed that you would die."
With those words all her dreams vanished.
In her mind she knew soon she would be banished.
Her cries for help won't be heard.
But it's all part of self-harm and hates work.
Her death was planned and she hadn't a clue,
But she was the one who had to follow it through.
She had no choice on whether to live or die.
They would only give her time to write hateful goodbyes.
She held onto the letters tight.
Her life ended that moonlit night.
They took her soul and burned it up.
The blood overflows her veins like water from a cup.
They leave her drowning in red and walk away.
The angels of self-harm and hate.
