Head buried in a notebook,
That's how I like to pass my time
I'm using 26 letters of the alphabet, but I bet I've filled 200 lines
Can't think of a better way
To get my point across
When I tell you that, "I'm fine,"
Inside my head, I'm lost.
I don't know what to do,
Often don't know what to say
So I keep my mouth shut
And stay silent mostly always.
Whenever I do speak,
I feel like no one ever listens
So I don't even waste my time
But the shit I feel inside is starting to get ridiculous.
I never feel at peace,
Something's always fucking with my head
And most days are just survival
Because I wish that I were dead.
It's really hard to let it out
And tell people how I feel,
So I just keep it bottled up inside and swallow another pill.
"Just take this medicine," they say
And it'll help me in the end
But the only thing that seems to help
Is the red that stains my skin.
I'm addicted to the pain I feel
And the way it makes me numb
It's a hard thing for me to stop
Even though, I want to be done.
They say it's just a cry for help
Well, that's exactly what it is,
But why is that seen as a bad thing?
I'd rather not die still a kid.
