I took a knife
I took a pen

With it, I started to write
With it, I stabbed my chest

On a white piece of paper
Deepest so it would hurt

But no ink would come out
But no pain could be felt

It would only tear the paper
It would only wound my heart

I thought I could write, but I couldn't
I thought I would die, and I was right

I wasn't a writer
*I was a killer