My arms are covered with red
My heart has been drained
My wrists and ankles have bled
My mind and body are forever painedI've forgotten how to feel
I don't want a life
I can't tell what's real
I only feel the steel of my knifeI can't tell anyone my feelings
I sit alone and talk to myself
My skin is in peelings
My knives are scattered along my shelfI wish I had someone to talk to
A person who really cared
Someone who was true
Where I couldn't be judgedI sit in my room and cry into my bed
I think of stuff that's wrong in my head
I'm buried and drowning in the color red
They don't know if I'm alive or deadNobody wants to help and that's fine
I don't need real friends
I have my friend, a bottle of wine
We will all eventually meet our endsI live on for one reason, one I can't say
It's the one perfect thing that is real
We'll all understand one day
It's the one other thing I can feelWe'll make it through our lives
I don't need these knives
Life can be worth living
If you can be understanding