All the time I sat
With my head in my hands...

You got under my skin,
You pushed me around...

This will not be a rhyming poem,
It may not be a poem at all...

He was just a normal boy,
Did his homework, saw his friends...

I can't remember you at all,
the way you look, or smile, or smell...

I thought this knife in my hand
Would make me feel sane...

You say I'm the bad kid,
The one that makes you sad...

Right.. I got told to write a song for my Friend's...
Bleed for me...