An addiction
An addiction that keeps me going...

I see your cuts,
Don't think I didn't see your sleeve slip up...

Please don’t hold my hand
Please let go...

Suicide he contemplated.
A gun he found...

The urge.
The urge that creates an itch...

Quietly I sit in my room wondering if the day will...
Is there anything to live for? I wonder as i stare...

In my room you find me passed out on the floor.
My arms covered in blood...the carpet stained red...

Talk of suicide and my fears of the institution
As I start to talk all my worst fears come out...

You took your last breath
Your hand slipped away...