I try to write poetry
but nothing will come out...

The day I lose you is the day i'll die,
I'll slit my wrists and float to the sky...

Everyday a little peice of hope dies,
Everyday a little more water falls from my eyes...

I wish i was a tree,
I always will...

Cuts are the braclets of this generation,
The ones they caused through self-mutilation...

Two different places that we live in,
Two different live we now lead...

I wasted so much of my life,
Living in a world filled with strife...

Why do they tease me
When I'm just me...

Quarter past eight, I'm still in bed,
Thoughts of the future run through my head...

Blue pen sinking deeper and deeper into my vein,
The tiny circles on my wrist show my true pain...

Today’s the day that would have been great
I would’ve got to be on stage again...

I’d love to dance upon the mountaintops
On the hills and among the trees...