Nobody knows me,
Not my father Not my mother,
they cant see. They think I'm ok from expressions on my face,
but inside its bubbling with disgrace. They think I have a problem because I stand my ground and fight back, but all I'm hearing is smack.
I wish I could run away or just disappear, then they would be sad when I'm not here. The stress is silent and fatal, its like a baby sitting in a cradle. They think its a joke just like my friends, but all they will hear is the end? I sit in my room pondering about life, thinking why oh why must I strife. I think suicide isn't worth it no sir, but sometimes I'm like super. Take me as a joke, go ahead, because you'll be sorry when I'm dead.
