I sit here in my room.
Razor blade in hand.
I could not hold in all my pain,
in which you understand.
You didn't know the story,
but you told it anyway.
You told them it was my idea to let attention stand.
I said I was unhappy.
I said that I was sad.
I said that I was incomplete,
I thought you would understand.
I didn't mean to hurt you.
I don't know if you know,
just how far I would really go,
to let you know.
How unhappy that I am.
You had to let me go.
