I Want To Cut Myself.
I Want To See Blood.
I Want To Feel Pain.
I Hate My Life,
I Hate My Body,
I Hate My Mind,
I Hate Myself,
Can I Please Cut?
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Sometimes I Get So Sad,
That I Completely Shut Down,
I Stare Blankly At The Wall
And It Doesn't Matter What,
You Say To Me,
Because In That Moment,
I Don't Exist.
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If I Told You
How Many Times
I've Sat Alone
On My Bedroom Floor
I Promise,
You'd Cry Too.
Sadly Angels, I'ved Cried Alone Too Many Times. Be Strong.
~Dead
