She was young when she committed
Her friends yell her name
but its like shes not there
shes gone
her mind committed suicide a long time ago
its going insane now

So whats the point of living
when your not there
her heart is already on the edge of giving up
with all the blows that it took

its like living without an soul
its just a body
not really a corpse
because she is still breathing

but shes not alive either

The color pencils in my hand
My mother's ******* are not like mine
Even her eyes will not be
repeated any more...

مداد رنگی ها دست من بود
سینه های مادرم
شکل من نیست
حتی چشمانش هم
...دیگر تکرار نمی شوند