Siting upon her bed made of nails
Piercing her skin slowly
Her eyes crimson red
Trying so badly to escape reality
But baby your just making it worse
Can't you see?
She's looking around in the hell she's in
She's learned to live with it
But she's waiting for him to take her
These thoughts repeating everyday
Weither she likes it or not
She's slipping to the edge again
But a bit further then before
So caught up in this hell she calls life
Thats she's missing the good in it
As before, why would God make me who I am
To live to suffer in this pain inside
Why would the Lord himself put suffer upon his creation when he suffered so...
I suppose my reason for staying on is my creative mind,
my reason for expression, to tell my story, I remember seeing a movie, she held a gun to her head,so damn close to pulling the trigger, baby if you do it no one will know your story...
But whats going to happen when I;m done telling my story?
What will be left to say?
What will be left to hold onto?
BUT FOR EVERYONE ELSE, REMEMBER IF YOU DECIDE OR HAVE BEEN THINKING ABOUT KILLING YOURSELF NO ONE WILL KNOW YOUR STORY AND WHY YOU WANTED TO DO SOOO!!