Writing is an ART, and words are like COLORS. my paper is a giant COLORING BOOK as i fill it with the emotions i am FEELING and the lonliness i fear. I hate the way you leave me by myself, I just sit there and CRY....

Do you see the scar on my arm?
The one in the shape of a broken heart?
The one with our names writen in red?
Make it deep...
Make it last...
My heart crys on my arm and the crimson tears slowly hit the ground
I am slowly fading away...

Im not like them, but i can pretend...

~KURT COBAIN

Trying to numb the pain
Alcohol and drugs
The cuts on my wrists
Bleeding
Crying
Too much pain...

Drowning in a pool of tears
Choking on salt
Pretty pictures painted on walls
Stained a crimson red

Slit My Wrist Hope To Die, Sing Me One Last Lullaby

Blood Rushing From My Wrist, Hoping For Eternal Bliss...

Place the barrel to my head, now im wishing i was dead...

Slice my life away, This is the price i'll have to pay

You shouldn't be ALONE when you're BROKEN