I want to cry,

I want to scream,

The things I do make me want to die,

The people I'm with make me wonder why

Why do the ones who say they love me hurt me the most?

Why do I hate them more than satan himself?

But I sit in my room, I silently bleed,

My arms with scratches adorning them

It doesn't make me happy, but the pain is better than being with them

If only I could convince myself to live

Maybe if I was funny or smart

Or kind or good looking

Or anything at all

Besides cruel, evil, sinful

But I am what I am

And I am cursed with hate

For it I bleed, for it I cry

For it I scream, for it I die

I won't regret the end of me,

I just hope those I love won't have to see

The coward that hid inside of me