How would you feel...
When you see me on the news.
Would you make a great deal...
Or would you blow it off and go snooze.
They found me in my closet...
Razor blade in hand.
Dripping like a faucet...
Too much blood, for them to withstand.
They bag me, clean me, and lay me in the ground...
Tears are shed in the crisp wind.
Everything so still, not a peep, nor a sound...
They wish, but still this cannot be rescind.
