Lie there clenching my fist real tight,
Trying to fall asleep at night...

Urges come over me,
The tears continue to flow...

In those rare moments when I feel fine,
You bring me down and my all healed wrist develops...

My perfect life is all a lie,
A lie that no one sees through...

They ask me what I want for Christmas,
I tell them that I don't know yet...

Words can be damaging,
Your words are killing me...

The knife is my best friend,
The friend I love to hate...

It's the comfort that I need,
It's the feelings I get watching myself bleed...

I wrote you a poem,
I wrote it with a blade...

The tears on my face,
The cuts on my wrist...

The sound of the knife, calling my name,
it's too hard to ignore, I can't play this game...

And with these final words I'll end my life,
I never thought this would be how I'd die...