The words that you write out on paper are just simple words.
None of them truly mean something to people, only to you.
Only you know what you are writing bout.
No one else understands your pain, your heartbreaks.
Someone looked at your diary and was instantly in tear,
To know that their best friend had been in so much pain, and not realize it.
But they still don't understand why you're in so much pain.
You try to explain it, but they never get it.
You feel alone with your diary and blade waiting for someone to come along and care.
But until then you'll just sit there writing in your diary all the pain you keep fealing.
And holding that knife to your wrists,
Waiting till the night you finally decide to end the suffering.
