I slip quietly from conversations
to taste the lonely air outside...

I am quite capable
of bleeding on my own...

I slip out of myself
Each time I drop into the screen...

My youth worn down by choices
That grasp me 'round the throat...

You're a need, not a want, in their mind
And they don't care what evil they find...

How many times
Must I crack myself apart...

I think I'd rather be liked than known
And I know myself so much less than I should...