You don't know her home life,
If she always cry.
And if every night she depends on that knife.
Or what happens when she leaves that door,
Is it all a lie?
Does she think its her fault,
Crying, dieing, cutting, & living a lie.
That its a cult of one person,
Believing she should be alone when she dies.
Like she deserves it?
Does she have to wear long sleeves,
Because of the cuts people will see.
Maybe than they'll finally believe me,
That I'm the little girl who's dieing inside.
