im ok
im ok
im ok
im ok
im fine
but the scissors cut deeper and deeper every time
im ok
im ok
im ok
im fine
but lying in by bed, i start to think its my time
im ok
i say
im ok
im ok
im ok
im ok
im ok
im ok
im ok
im ok
im ok
im ok
im ok
im ok
im ok
im ok
































im not

don't cry
when i die.
crying over me
is just as useful
as crying over spilled milk.

we are all wearing black
this is the day before i die
hold in your tears now,
please don't cry

i ask for one last dance
and you say 'yes'
so we hold hands and twirl around,
you look so pretty in your black dress

we dance for hours
until i run out of time
when i fall to the floor
look up, the stars are out; after all, it is nighttime

the stars mean nothing
when you aren't here.

well
i've been trying to be a good kid all my life
and believe me
it brought me no good
so mark my words.
nobody gives a crap.
do whatever you want
because there is so much more
than just good or bad

sure,
but why did you care about me?
no one ever did before.
is this what it feels like
to feel okay?
because i don't recognize this feeling.
not at all.

the best i can do is try
the time is ticking by
i'm trying not to cry
this is making me want to die
i say i'm fine but i know it's a lie
i hold back a sigh
"i'm just trying to help"
"you're not an ally",
i reply
i don't sit so people don't see my thighs
i try to keep my mouth shut, but open you pry
we are low on supply
so i guess i better retry
more knots i will tie
alcohol, i apply
to my cuts, while tears fall from my eyes
you aren't someone who which i can rely;
please, don't ruin my disguise

Loser, Loser, Loser.

You asked me why I felt that way.
That hatred I felt towards you the other day—
It’s not you; it's me.
But maybe it is you.

It's me because I have my suspicions.
For some reason, I think you’re malicious.
But not in that way.
I just think you're a sore loser.
So please go away.

It's you because of the things you do.
It makes me want to go and puke.
Plus, I'm scared.
I hope you don't feel what I think you feel.
If you do, I'm dead.

And here you are, asking me why.
Just go away, will you?

Loser, Loser, Loser.

I love
When I make people laugh
And when they feel comfortable enough to cry
To share theirs thoughts out loud
So I can too can be mad
And express how much I don't want them to die