Running always running, just from the pain what is ripping my heart out, all the haterd people think of me, When i always come home, i don't know what to think of myself, i sometimes want to cry myself to sleep, because of the pain, sometimes i just like there a think of things, and my heart is dark and pure, people say i just don;t care for anyone, i do i care for millons of things, Just because people look diffrent dosent mean they are mean, Because evry one is Beautful.
