Knives

I feel like an outcast,
Kept away from whats good,
Shown all the bad stuff,
I'd die if i could,
I often thought of fighting,
All the demons from my mind,
But when I try to bring myself,
I become so blind,
I'd love to be accepted,
But that could never do,
I pick out everyones faults,
even ones in you,
I think its 'cause I'm insecure,
and need to be the same,
And if something goes wrong,
Its you who I can blame,
And I wish I could morph,
into someone else,
So when I need to escape,
The knife won't be my help.