Pick up a pen and write
it makes you vent
she said
so I did
I picked up the pen
and traveled and went
through
every open road and crack
and wrote and wrote and finally
did this thing called
VENT.

I have a paper heart
Its ripped and torn apart
It has creases in the middle
And bends here and there
But then i decided
To flatten it out
Make it more round
And now its perfect again...

I knew it was too good to be true.
I knew not to depend.
I knew if i did my world would crash again.
I knew better than to get attached.
I knew better than to make memories.
I knew that my life was a mistake.
I knew i should have slipped away.
I knew better but still
I made all these silly mistakes
I knew better
I knew
I knew
I knew.

Why does this always happen to me?
What did I do to deserve all this pain?
Why do I constantly feel this way?
Will the pain ever go away?
I need help
My mirror is about to break
But why does this keep happening ?
Why ?
Why ?
Why ?

I can't believe it
Its happening again
I'm slipping away
Into that horrible place
I worked so hard to fight
I thought I was okay again
But I guess not
I guess this time I couldn't win
I tried not to become this way
But I did.