Heres to the girl who sits and locks herself in...
heres to the girl who stays in with the pen and...

She stares out into the dark night sky
and wishes life could be different...

Perfection is an illusion
created by your fabricated realities...

Use me again.
it makes no difference anymore...

Bracelets attempt to cover
every inch of shame made upon that wrist of hers...

The room spirals
out of control...

Wait.
just wait it out...

I can tell by the trackmarks on your arms
that you found something better than falling in...

You can rip your heart out sweetheart,
but its not over yet...

She gambles with life
like its a game...

She's fading quickly
come hold her close...