She stands alone in the corner watching everyone...
Wondering if someone will come up and talk to her...

She sat there
Staring up at here celling...

She sits there
Carves one last cut into her wrists...

You tell me that you trust me
I tell you that i trust you...

I'm sorry that i am not who you want me to be
I'm sorry that i am not a piece of clay that you...

Your all sad that she is going to leave
But do you know what...

Don't you get it?
It doesn't matter...

You all think you know the real her
But do you really...

As I take the blade,
I make my last cut...

Sorry i am not what you want me to be
I am not perfect...

I have been sent a very special gift
And that is you...

She is in a big room
There are many people...