I've never been ready to burn in hell,
But I have the feeling in my gut.
It's burning deep inside myself.
And now there's something I must tell.
One, I tried to kill my life.
I used a sharp and tiny knife.
Not as big as you may know,
But known as blades where grass should grow.
Or maybe just the sharper kind,
That pulls the nerves from in my spin.
Upon my tiny, little wrists.
Where blood will drop and death persists.
Two, I feel as though I'm mad,
Not angry, but insanely sad.
The things I think of late at night,
Make me weak and cause me fright.
Because I see them in the day,
When all those gouls should be at bay.
Three, just know that I have had my share of panic attacks here and there.
Four, I want to kill myself.
I am depressed and sad as hell.
I need to die to cut me slack.
I need she'd the skin I lack.
Because my heart is almost black.
I need to sever ties with that.
One, just know I'm not okay.
Two, I hate myself today.
Three, I'll put the knife away.
But four, I'll kill myself today.
One, I may be suicidal.
Two, I'd call this homicidal.
Three, I might be just a murder.
Four, I killed a girl to hurt her.
