The past is who i had been
But it's been a few months since I've come clean
I was not a child not to know i was depressed
But still i had chose to keep it a secret.
The blood was flowing instead of the tears
I would hid behind the long sleeved layers
Dying had became my ultimate goal of life
My mind and my soul in constant strife.
But i changed along with the environment
New faces of people and a trustworthy friend
I smiled more often and started to love myself
Despite the flaws I learned to be perfect.
But I would find myself thinking about the past
Often wonder how long this happiness would last
Then the occasional cuts start
My skin is the canvas and the blood paints the art.
I have the same feelings i had back then
I'm going back to that awful darkness again
Maybe i was never to live, never to bloom
But sit with my loneliness in a crowded room.
