When I was 8, I thought things would be great when I grow up.
Now that I'm here, It's not like what I thought it would be.
You want to leave this world but you don't die so you try once again.
You take those pills and let the tears fall down like the summer rain.
You're gentle because you hurt yourself instead of others.
But people think you're an emo kid who's scared to carry on further.
You think you've had enough so you think of suicide.
You take that blade and just a second before you slit your throat, this thought comes to your mind:
"What would people think? What would they say? How will my parents feel when they find me dead?"
"They'll cry their eyes out and may get depressed like me."
But listen angel, People don't care.
They don't know when you're sad, at that wall, for hours, you stare.
You're trapped in darkness. Your body goes numb.
You take those blades and cut your wrists.
You ask for help but at that moment, You don't exist.
People say 'drown your demons.'
But they know how to swim.
They say I have a bad habit of leaving when things get difficult.
They don't know that I leave because I don't have the will nor power to carry on further.
So after all this if I jump in, just let me sink and die.
I'll drown my demons only when to this world, I say goodbye.
