I look in the mirror..
at this image of me...

I look down at the knife in my hand,
It looks so sharp, sharp enough to draw the blood...

I know I'm making things hard,
Harder than they have to be...

Sitting here,
Drying tears that won't fall...

Everytime you speak,
Or even just when I see you...

Why can't you just accept that I'm not like you?
Why do you always have to tell me there's more to...

There's so much to be happy for,
So much to get vivacious about...

I see him in the halls,
I see him riding the bus...

My heart was broken,
Into a million pieces...

I can't believe,
The way you make me feel...

Because of you,
My life is a mess...

It's because of him,
That she's laying on the floor...