Thoughts of suicide race through my head,
It would be so much easier if I were dead,
I'm tired of faking a laugh, a smile,
always living in fear, pain and denial.
I take up my blade, slide it slowly under my skin,
I'm fighting a losing battle, I know I cannot win.
What to people see when they look at my face?
a girl who's in trouble too deep?
or just another tradgic case..?
I'll soon be happy even though I lost the fight,
on the wall with my crimson sorrows i write:
'I'm Sorry I can't be perfect..' |