I'm writing you this letter
in hope to make things better...
I wish to be inside your head
To understand the things you said...
She sits idly by, bon bons at the ready
watching the same old crap on T.V...
I came up in a cruel world of pain
sleeping in the cold standing in the rain...
I focus on the pain
The only thing that's real...
The words you say
cut deep like a razor blade...
They say they all know how i feel
But they don't get that this feeling is real...
Looking at her, you don't know
Because she's not so thin...
Dear bulimia,
You came, you sat, and you smiled...
It use to be the smiles and laughs
fake feelings that seem to last...
Slice open the flesh
let the blood spill...
Do you not understand?
I can't do this on my own...