Why Don't You Help Me?... Will You Help Me Now That My Writes Bleed Out With My Blood That Flows Ever So Quick Like A Raging River Of Sorrow. What More Do I Have To Do? These Scares And Cuts Ever So Red. The Knife Dripping With Blood... The Note That Has Been Waiting To Be Opened For All To See. But In Reality No One Really Gives A Shit Anyways, For What I Do To Myself. And For What I Have Done. For When I' Gone There Shall Be No Tears Shed. But Then Again No One Would Realize That I Would Be Gone. For I Am Nothing But Another Dying Leaf. I Mean Nothing And I Shall Always Be Nothing.
