You can tell exactly how bad the night was
Just by counting all the jagged red lines
That cover my skin.
Because that's the only way
You'll know the things
That I will never tell.

She's the new Peter Pan,
She doesn't want to grow up,
Even though,
The marks on her arms,
Say she already has.

I'm supposed to be the perfect girlfriend.
But my fear of turning into an adult,
Is making it impossible for me to be a bit more mature.
And it's really not fair.
Because this fear is running my life.
But not just in this aspect.
I fear my own fear.

You made me forget,
All my problems,
But only for,
One hour.

You have no idea.
How much you mean to me.
And every word you say.
Can take my breath away.
But you don't seem to realize.
That there are tears forming in my eyes.
Because you never seem to look.

When you're so young and so small,
Everyone expects you to say nothing at all.
They never think that you've thought of anything less,
Than a scraped knee from a minor accident.
No body really knows,
How much you've really grown.
In your mind, you're so old.
You're depression haunts,
You're eyes are hollow.
No one else realizes,
How much pain you're in.
How the scars on your body can't possibly be
From any cat I've ever seen.
You're living a life behind a painted mask,
That only I can see beneath.

The death of one is tragedy, but someday maybe happily I’ll pass.
The difference between us acts like a cement wall holding ashes of the ******.
Maybe someday happily I’ll pass.
Maybe someday I’ll fall from the sky.
I’d let go from anything holding me and just fall.
Dead weights and dead bodies.
Small Hitman for hire.
Just dangling by a rope.
From the closest Silver Maple.
Leaves stained with blood from the wrist.
Maybe passing is better than living
Losing my mind.
Losing my voice, I cry.
Screaming in my mind.
Where did you run off to, my friend?
Losing my will.
Losing my faith, I die.
Sky turning black as night.
My little friend, I’ll never see you again.

If only my creativity flowed like the blood in my veins.
If only my life was as picture-perfect as my story characters.
If only my mind wasn't fractured with depression and anxiety.
If only I wasn't so paranoid.
If only my friends really cared about me.
If only I wasn't mentally dead.
If only my only escape was a good one.
If only my words made sense.
If only, if only...

When the night fades to light,
You hope that the blood dries itself up,
And cleans itself up off the sheets of your sad bed.
And you hope the salty tears stop
Flowing down your flushed face.
And that your body heals the way it should,
And your mind is a much of a fresh canvas as the newly dawning day.
But that will never happen.

The sirens file around these walls.
Emptiness and darkness began to look the same.
Walls start to blur and fade away.
And suddenly I’m back at the scene of the crime.
But is this really where I want to be?
Do I need a real explanation?
Please tell me where I need to be.
Are you really here beside me?
It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve been waiting, but it is the worst I’ve ever had.
It’s not like I can’t live without you, because I certainly can.
Why does everyone keep looking down on me?
Why is everything stopping?
And why do you keep leaving when you know I can’t breathe?
It's almost like you *know.

When light fades to dark,
All that’s left is the light of the signs,
And the Christmas lights.
They are only put up for tradition and lack of better things to do.
Sometimes I lay under a Christmas tree,
Because that’s the only way I can force myself to live in the present.
And as a present, because I don’t think my family enjoys:
Paying for my Zoloft,
Paying to sent me to Amy,
Paying for all the things associated with band,
Putting up with my grades,
Putting up with my moods.
I feel quite festive when I lay under the tree,
And sometimes I take naps there.
It’s comforting to watch the flashing lights.
And to know that one wrong move,
And a bunch of
Porcelain, glass, plastic, sharp metal,
And the branches of the fake tree,
Can come crashing down on you.
Yes, it's that easy.