My bleeding wrists will not mend, My crying heart will not stop. My hand holds a bloody knife which might be the death of me. This could have been prevented if you hadn't taken my heart and broken it into a thousand pieces, then throwing it back at my ankles. Thinking of your faces makes me start cutting again, but this time cutter oh so deeper. Once the knife strikes its final blow my world goes black and i start going cold. As i fade away from my mortal body i imagine the face of the boy who had broken my heart and started the pain i ended my life to get rid of.
