I sit here holding the knife,
Thinking of what I'm about to leave.
If I should just cut my wrists,
I'm leaving my family, my friends, my life.
I have problems; yeah I'll admit it.
But why didn't I get help?
I know I tried to let them know,
I tried my very best.
I tried to show them the way I felt.
I tried to let them see.
And in my desperate cries for help,
No one ever heard me.
Now as I lay here lifelessly,
With minuets of my life left,
I wonder could my cries have been stronger?
And maybe my life could've been spared.
Then maybe I could have helped more people,
Overcome this same ol' fear.
And then maybe people just like me,
Would still be living.
