Each day I say the same thing,
Every day I tell the same lie,
There's only one song this bird can sing,
And it's less of a song than a cry.

A cry of agony and hurt,
Escaping from a person full of pain,
Somebody who's been left in the dirt,
And is slowly going insane.

Insanity is a comfort,
A way to escape it all,
A way to tone down the hurt,
And take me out of a freefall.

A freefall of confusion and mistakes,
That make me think too much,
Thoughts turn from puddles to lakes,
And depression follows as such.

Thinking makes me sad,
Because all I think of is her,
And when times weren't so bad,
Because there wasn't pain to conquer.

A pain that runs my life,
And makes me do something so vile,
A pain that cuts like a knife,
And makes me wear a fake smile.

Butterflies dance upon my wrists, showing the world a boy who's losing a mental battle. A boy who wants a metal skater to gracefully slid upon his skin, melting it to red water. But those butterflies, those multicolored saviors fluttering about me, are alive. If I allow that metal dancer, so elegant and clean, to preform upon my wrists then those butterflies will die. One tiny cut, and they will bleed with me. So it's my job to protect them, and their job to protect me. The light that shines from their silky wings scares away the dark demons within me. As they flutter through the darkness, their small voices whisper to me. Things like, "Don't give up" and "You can do it." When I have nobody else, they remain. I can hear them singing in my head, my friends upon my wrists. When I feel sad enough, I'll give them another friend, another savoir to dance upon my wrists. And I know I'm not the only person with butterflies fluttering on me. I hope that one day that they, as well as I, will have the courage and the strength to let our little butterfly friends fly away.

As I put the barrel to my head, the cold metal will extract the memory of you, the last thing on my mind will be the way you so effortlessly forgot me and disregarded my emotions. The way you lied and smiled through it, pretending as if you still loved me while all feelings of love had already gone to somebody else.  The thought of you will be forced up by the rope that pushes up against my chin as it tries to slip up my throat.  The pills that I put down my throat will be a representation of me trying to push the memories of you down again.  Your memory will flow free with the blood that escapes my arms and legs as I slice them open.  When I fall, your memory will float to the top of my mind.  The last thought on my mind will be you, because you of all people are to blame.

When I die, I don't want my life to flash before my eyes.  I don't want to see all the pain that I went through, or all the grief that I have caused to people who I held so close.  I don't want to see the betrayal of people who I called friends, I don't want to see the lies, the false hope, the bliss of ignorance fly through my head like the bullet staining the room read.  I don't want to see my memories flowing out with the blood staining my wrists, or coming back up with the excessive amount of pills.  I want to see nothing, or perhaps, maybe Death itself.  The black robed man, with the scythe of hollowed oak wood and polished silver blade.  Curved so perfectly it sometimes seems to be the moon in the sky, fresh after a new moon.  I don't want a rerun of my life as I take my last breath and plunge into the icy river.  I want to look at Death, I want to stare directly under that hood of his and at whatever may be under it and tell him, "I don't fear you." Then, maybe I can kick the chair, take the step, slice down, swallow, hold my breath.  Maybe then I can **** myself and be at peace for the first time in forever.

Life is like a movie.  It will have it's high points and low points, fast moments full of action and excitement and slow ones full of boredom and laziness.  Life is like a movie because no matter how many times you watch it, it will always be the same, the characters never change, the lines always stay the same and the situation ends the same way.  It will have happy moments, like the romantic comedy where laughter and joy emit from all around, and it will have the low moments, where the blinds are closed and the door is locked and we just sit there, screaming out into the darkness, "Why?"  Life is like a movie because it has a blooper reel.  Mistakes, both sad and funny are there.  With little quirks that makes people laugh to the one sentence that just happened to slip out.  Life is like a movie because it has it's own cast, the list will go on forever, people you meet or live with.  People who come in and exit your life.  Life is like a movie because there will always be a bad guy, there to take or destroy or ruin, leaving the hero of the story there to fix it all for themselves.  Life is like a movie because it has a beginning, middle, and end.  Life is like a move because what would life be without the romantic comedies, the thrillers, the slashers, the horrors, the tragedies?  Yes, my friends, life is like a movie, so sit back and grab your popcorn, because the movie is just starting.

Mirror, mirror on the wall
Standing there, thin and tall
Tell me, tell me what you see
Imperfections that belong to me.
Mirror, mirror hanging there
Showing people that life's not fair
Making us someone we're not
Mothers, daughters, all distraught.
Mirror, mirror on oh so clear
Please, oh please take me away from here?

Each day I say the same thing,
Every day I tell the same lie,
There's only one song this bird can sing,
And it's less of a song than a cry.

A cry of agony and hurt,
Escaping from a person full of pain,
Somebody who's been left in the dirt,
And is slowly going insane.

Insanity is a comfort,
A way to escape it all,
A way to tone down the hurt,
And take me out of a freefall.

A freefall of confusion and mistakes,
That make me think too much,
Thoughts turn from puddles to lakes,
And depression follows as such.

Thinking makes me sad,
Because all I think of is her,
And when times weren't so bad,
Because there wasn't pain to conquer.

A pain that runs my life,
And makes me do something so vile,
A pain that cuts like a knife,
And makes me wear a fake smile.