Feelings i cant suppress
if i hold them any longer
i swear I'll die
there's no way to express
no one will listen
my arm is the canvas
the knife is the paint brush
people think it would hurt
even i did but
in reality it feels so good
whats there to live for?
nobody cares
i thought i had friends
people who loved me
but nobody noticed what was wrong
maybe thats why...
thats why I'm already gone
