I go along with their fun and games,
Laugh when people call me names -
And yet it makes me feel so ashamed
That people can't just accept me this way.
I hate the fact that I'm damned to Hell.
That life gets worse with every person I tell,
And that before hiding, in my pain should I dwell..
To the devil himself, my soul, I would sell.
I hate how people reacted when I told,
Especially the ones with a "Heart of Gold",
And yet the longer I go on it never gets old,
But instead the pain keeps growing bold.
I would slice open my veins,
Hang myself with steel chains,
Every drop of blood from my body I would drain..
Any thing but go on suffering this pain.
The torment, the teasing the dirty stares,
Yes I do, I pretend not to care..
I put it away, and deny the pain is there,
But in the end, shame pollutes the air.
