That girl over there isn't clean
but not in the way that you'd expect

yes, she showers on the daily
yes, she brushes her teeth in the morning
yes, she wears a clean set of clothes every day--

but if you take the time
to look her in the eyes
and possibly even care enough
to try to see through her lies of
"I'm alright, I'm just tired"
and "Sorry, it's just one of those days"
you'd see that the way she pulls down her sleeves
and makes the excuse that she's "just cold"
is really a defense mechanism.

You see, that girl really isn't clean
and she hasn't been since just a few days ago

and all the dirt
all the filth
that covers her body
covers her thoughts
lies in the places that you can't see--
the places she doesn't let you see.

This is a story about a girl
A girl who cared too much about the world
She got in her head that she was fat
Turns out she wasn’t and that’s a fact

There was a girl who care too much
She went about her life as such
She cut her thighs
And constantly worried about her size
That girl who cared too much

She starved herself
to please someone else
The girl who cared too much

Now she is dead
and nothing is to be said
about The girl who cared too much

Nobody knows why
she felt she had to die
No one ever saw her cry
The girl who cared too much

Before she died
She said with a sigh
“You won’t charge my mind
The choice is all mine”
The girl who cared too much

“You need to let it be
Because this is all me”
The girl who cared too much

It turned out she lied
The pain that was inside
Came from words she put aside
The girl who cared too much

It’s been a month now
And no one remembers how
they had always put her down
The girl who cared too much

There once was a blade
That made the pain fade
The little girl weeped in shame.
  Mr.Blade put her in the hall of fame
Death was the only friend that came
She suffered but no one knew her name
You made her feel worthless that's so lame
You thought this was just a game
She was never the same
She is now gone And you are to blame

she stares at the bottle of pills
sitting calmly on the table
as she picks up a paintbrush
and begin her painting

her choice of colour was red
always shocking red
her canvas was smooth
smooth as a baby's skin they say

but no one will ever know
the days she spent locked up
in her room painting
her life away

that her canvas was her skin
the paintbrush was the blade
the choice of colour was her blood
and she couldn't stop