Trevor, I really love you,
But theres something you must know...

I see her sitting there,
In that cold, dark room...

Who I really am,
Is something you’ll never know...

How could you be so blind
To miss that your best friend has been crying...

As other people sit together,
I sit alone...

I write these poems with morbid themes,
To show people what depression means...

You don't know what I'm like when I'm alone
All those times when I'm not on the phone...

I wish that I could tell you,
How I feel inside...