everything*  is  different  now;  
                        ­                                                   its edging on
                                                                ­           two whole years
                                                           ­                with out the tears
                                                                ­           of being beaten down  
                                                                ­           by cold hearted kids
                                                            ­               who couldnt find themselves
                                                      ­                     and took it out
and now i feel                                                    on me.
a pathetic remorse
for the scars
all those
lost souls
left on my legs,
my hips, my arms;
but not for me
                          for  them.
                                                     because
                                                       ­                    how lacking of love
                                                                ­           all your lives must have been
                                                            ­               for you to punch me,
                                                                ­           and scream
                                                                ­           painful lies in my ears
                                                                ­           for you to kick me,
                                                             ­              and use your nails
                                                           ­                and pencils to tear
                                                                ­           cuts crying red
                                                                ­           upon my pale skin.          
Oh, i feel worse
for all of you
then i do for myself;
because id never do
an innocent life
so wrong
and youll never
be able to retract
what you've done.

i just need some one to talk to
about my life,
my stress, my issues;
but unless im holding
a knife to my throat
no one will take
2 seconds to hear me out.
of course, that only makes me feel worse. . .

why  do  i  have  to  dance  with  suicide
in  order  to  get  someones  advice *?

there's* a poison that sleeps
inside my head
has lived there a while
built itself a bed.
there's a toxin that leaks
into my lungs
i thought i could control it
but ****, i was wrong.
there's nails hammered
into my frail bones
i don't bother them
yet the cracks still widen.
you could shoot me in the head,
but the ****** bullet
would just sit there with the rest;
making friends with my worst memories
learning my weaknesses,
training against me.

and  in  the  end
                                     they say it'll be okay.
but they've said that since the beginning
so what should i believe?

and  in  the  end
                                     they say it'll be okay.
                                                         ­                 but  i'm  lost  now,
and home is far, far away.

crave (crumble)
shiver (shake)
dying to keep
my bones
awake.                                                   ­                       (strange) thunder
                                                         ­                             (thrives) under
                                                           ­                            my skin
                                                            ­                          threatening to stake
                                                                ­                       the progress
                                                                ­                       i've made
promising to make it
go away
with a better addiction
a better conviction . . .
                                        how  do  they  n­ot  see
                                        the  criminal  bene­ath  me ?

                                                            ­                   maybe its not there
                                                                ­                    the wind whispers
                                                        ­                     maybe it doesnt have to be
                                                             ­                       the truth answers me