My art is whats going to kill me,
My art is very true,
My art has my flesh for paper and my razor for the pen.

The only things that keep me alive is the,
Feeling of a blade comming into my arm,
Praying i mite die or cry out enough crimson tears to finally feel better.

Coal has to go threw fire to become a dimond, A human has to go threw hell to go into heaven.

Tell me when you slit you're wrists you dont pray for the strength to press down and the courage to tell everyone 'f * ck u'

Theres only so many tears you can cry, cuts you can make, But only one trigger you can pull to leave all of the mistakes.

Whats worse then dreaming about killing you're self and see you're love run to you in tears saying 'love you'? Waking up in darkness finding out it was real.

Everyone is asking santa for toys or a loved one...I'm the only one asking him if i could be happy.

My friends ask me to stop, they said if i cared about them then i would..But all because of this addiction, i lost them.

Another year is comming, and all i did with this one was waste it with crimson tears.

I laugh when i hear something funny and i smile when i hear something good..I do so many things on the outside even though on the inside i'm crying..