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Hope I dont get any biters ... its really long ;;
Theres something stirring inside of me that I cant seem to explain
Its a wierd type of pain, leeking out of my viens
Slowly as my pillow begins to change from white to red
The colors which I cant seem to sum up in my head
Because everyone seems to describe how wonderful color makes the world
If thats the case, Im color blind, I cant see any good in this girl
Staring at me in the mirror that I want to break like the glass
Then I watch the clock tick, the time goes by so fast
I cant take any of it back as it passes me by, I waste it
Then again its not me who wastes it, its those who allow me to take life and hate it
While I sit and think of suicide through out the day and nothing else,
Some times it feels like dying would be the only way to escape this hell,
I find as Im writing this poem the pain eases but still
I feel a need to slit my wrists, an incision that could lead to my kill
But Im not the one who deserves death, its not my fault
Yet I seem to hate myself for crimes I didnt commit at all
And Ive lost my trust in almost everyone that I see
Id rather be locked up in a dark room with nothing but CDs
No matter how much I write, the pain is still there and it wont go away
So Im wanting to take back the time I threw the blades away
Im wanting to have those who hurt me watch the blood pour out of my viens
Im about to take the blade to my left wrist, slash and erase the pain
And I hide it, but when my friends find out they threaten to turn their backs
Expecting that if I stop bleeding life will improve just like that
Its kind of scary, Im praying for my dads death in the back of my head
But I know when he goes, Ill be the one wishing myself death
And I already am, Im so confused and I feel like Im surrounded by walls
With no doors to open, no windows to crawl, nothing at all
I feel like Ive met death and shook its hand, it tried to tempt me
But I had to back out, yet Im praying for death to get me, Im empty
Wishing I could reverse to the day I was born when my life was on the edge
The doctor had a choice: Either me or my mom dead
But some how he managed to save us both, and why? Ill never understand
I know I should be thanking him, but Im in so much pain, I hate the man
I want to kill everyone I see now, even those who show me respect
I cant seem to think of any situation other than death
And I ask God why Im being so tortured repeatidly, Im in pain
If pain didnt come this often, then I wouldnt feel so betrayed
But depression just lingers, follows me where ever I go
Never leaving, endless suffering, its like my shadow, and Ill never know
Why Im so stuck on it, I shouldve known not to take life and throttle it
Yet I took 14 years of pure hell and just bottled it
And now that Ive opened up, I feel worse but better too
Im upset to know its there, that its not a dream, this is really true
And if life is a test, Im passing it cheating by cutting my wrists
Im so close to getting caught cheating, thats when the cuts turn into slits
And I fell unconcious once, will it happen again, or will I not survive
Instead of regretting an attempt at suicide, I thought "Why am I still alive?"
And Im still sitting watching the clock tick away at my past
I know I cant take any of the seconds back as they pass
And If I cant do that, and I cant save time or stop it
Then maybe instead of wasting it daily, I should take life and drop it
Im about to collapse, I can feel myself tipping over, none of my wounds mending
Now no one is watching, Im going to let suicide walk its way into my life and end it
Then Ill stop hearing the tick of the clock thats been filling life with torture
Shell end up in hell for suicide, God will just hate her and scorch her
Right? Thats what scares me, but I dont understand any of it
Suicide comes out of depression, so if it happens, why be more punished for nothing
The pains still there, the clocks still ticking, whats going on now
I need to keep cutting my wrists, watch the red pain leak out
Im not doing this to myself, its you who possesses me to stab my wrist
Drag the blade, no pain I feel, it all fades and now its just there in the midst
Some one give me back my blades, or Im using the knives
It happend so fast I couldnt think twice about life
The world is a crime scene, my existence is the crime, and I am the suspect
Some one's reporting the crime, the sins, to God and I am the subject
But who cares about me? No body, so screw life, Im about to kill it
I can feel everything building up, take my suicidal thought and fullfill it
The clock stopped ticking, suddenly hell is over, suicide solved my issues quick
By taking the blade and making a slit, by taking a knife, I mis-used it
Now as this pain on my back no longer increases,
I wonder what they'll tell me: Rest In Peace, or Rot In Pieces?
Theres something stirring inside of me that I cant seem to explain
Its a wierd type of pain, leeking out of my viens
Slowly as my pillow begins to change from white to red
The colors which I cant seem to sum up in my head
Because everyone seems to describe how wonderful color makes the world
If thats the case, Im color blind, I cant see any good in this girl
Staring at me in the mirror that I want to break like the glass
Then I watch the clock tick, the time goes by so fast
I cant take any of it back as it passes me by, I waste it
Then again its not me who wastes it, its those who allow me to take life and hate it
While I sit and think of suicide through out the day and nothing else,
Some times it feels like dying would be the only way to escape this hell,
I find as Im writing this poem the pain eases but still
I feel a need to slit my wrists, an incision that could lead to my kill
But Im not the one who deserves death, its not my fault
Yet I seem to hate myself for crimes I didnt commit at all
And Ive lost my trust in almost everyone that I see
Id rather be locked up in a dark room with nothing but CDs
No matter how much I write, the pain is still there and it wont go away
So Im wanting to take back the time I threw the blades away
Im wanting to have those who hurt me watch the blood pour out of my viens
Im about to take the blade to my left wrist, slash and erase the pain
And I hide it, but when my friends find out they threaten to turn their backs
Expecting that if I stop bleeding life will improve just like that
Its kind of scary, Im praying for my dads death in the back of my head
But I know when he goes, Ill be the one wishing myself death
And I already am, Im so confused and I feel like Im surrounded by walls
With no doors to open, no windows to crawl, nothing at all
I feel like Ive met death and shook its hand, it tried to tempt me
But I had to back out, yet Im praying for death to get me, Im empty
Wishing I could reverse to the day I was born when my life was on the edge
The doctor had a choice: Either me or my mom dead
But some how he managed to save us both, and why? Ill never understand
I know I should be thanking him, but Im in so much pain, I hate the man
I want to kill everyone I see now, even those who show me respect
I cant seem to think of any situation other than death
And I ask God why Im being so tortured repeatidly, Im in pain
If pain didnt come this often, then I wouldnt feel so betrayed
But depression just lingers, follows me where ever I go
Never leaving, endless suffering, its like my shadow, and Ill never know
Why Im so stuck on it, I shouldve known not to take life and throttle it
Yet I took 14 years of pure hell and just bottled it
And now that Ive opened up, I feel worse but better too
Im upset to know its there, that its not a dream, this is really true
And if life is a test, Im passing it cheating by cutting my wrists
Im so close to getting caught cheating, thats when the cuts turn into slits
And I fell unconcious once, will it happen again, or will I not survive
Instead of regretting an attempt at suicide, I thought "Why am I still alive?"
And Im still sitting watching the clock tick away at my past
I know I cant take any of the seconds back as they pass
And If I cant do that, and I cant save time or stop it
Then maybe instead of wasting it daily, I should take life and drop it
Im about to collapse, I can feel myself tipping over, none of my wounds mending
Now no one is watching, Im going to let suicide walk its way into my life and end it
Then Ill stop hearing the tick of the clock thats been filling life with torture
Shell end up in hell for suicide, God will just hate her and scorch her
Right? Thats what scares me, but I dont understand any of it
Suicide comes out of depression, so if it happens, why be more punished for nothing
The pains still there, the clocks still ticking, whats going on now
I need to keep cutting my wrists, watch the red pain leak out
Im not doing this to myself, its you who possesses me to stab my wrist
Drag the blade, no pain I feel, it all fades and now its just there in the midst
Some one give me back my blades, or Im using the knives
It happend so fast I couldnt think twice about life
The world is a crime scene, my existence is the crime, and I am the suspect
Some one's reporting the crime, the sins, to God and I am the subject
But who cares about me? No body, so screw life, Im about to kill it
I can feel everything building up, take my suicidal thought and fullfill it
The clock stopped ticking, suddenly hell is over, suicide solved my issues quick
By taking the blade and making a slit, by taking a knife, I mis-used it
Now as this pain on my back no longer increases,
I wonder what they'll tell me: Rest In Peace, or Rot In Pieces?
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