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

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...

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...

He is alone
Bored, depressed...

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