People always say,
I love you like you were my own flesh and blood.
Well I love the scars,
Because they are my own flesh and blood.

I'm losing life's fight.
Why does life have to be a fight?

I'm torn between life and death

I'm counting down the days until I die.
I just wish I knew where to count down from.

No matter what, you're gonna die.
Who cares how, why, and when?

Why do I feel I have to stay here
To protect people from pain?
Why do I keep their pain to myself,
Only to create my own?

I keep the pills in the bottom drawer,
And the blade in the top...
I always open the top one,
But why not the bottom?

I wish I was never conceived.
I would have never existed.
I would never have cause any pain.

This is my life...
Alcohol.
Drugs.
Depression.
Suicidal Thoughts.
Pain.
Anger.

EMPTY

Never mind, forget about it, talking doesn’t seem to be helping. I think I need to deal with this on my own; I just need to figure out how. Right now there’s only one way, but I can’t do it.