He is alone
Bored, depressed...

He sits alone
Tobacco,papers and butt's by his side...

Depression and I have become one
One can't live without the other...

I scar myself for the fun of it
It's better than any kind of hit...

Emptied of his emotions
His pain moves in slow motion...

I hate my own hatred
I hate being hated...

I ingore the voices in my head
The one's that say i'm the living dead...

I was lost
She found me...

Why does it always have to be this way
will he make it through this day...