They have no right to judge me
if what i'm doing is wrong
they have no right to call me
of names i shouldn't be called
Why do they even care?
Of how i live my life
they don't know my problems
they don't know my strife
They say i think shallow
and i'm crazy for doing these things
but i didn't tell them to follow
of my habit that makes my skin sting
We all have our own ways
ways to escape trouble
so, why do they even mind?
of how i juggle my own life
We're in a free world
we could do the things that we want
unless it doesn't harm anybody
cause what i do is self-harm
I still cut my wrists
because of what they say
they stab me continuously
and this is my only way to release the pain
I feel i have no friends
my pen is the only one who understands
its print tells about reality
of how my life turned to tragedy
The knife gives me low chances to survive
ironically, it is the only thing that keeps me alive
i don't want to live anymore
but i want to experience life more
