What do you want me to say?
That I feel like my friendship
is a lie? my suicidal friend may
leave me here and it kills me
inside? Or that the girl I like
feels wrong at my touch?
My friends want to see me, psych,
No one can see me when I
am good to see them, only when
I am not good do they want to.
and look at me, grabbing my pen
to write more lines like I have
an actual problem that cannot
be easily solved without a knife
a knife I have definitely fought
for way to long, maybe I would
be happier in hell, for pain and
darkness has always been more
like home then all of the land
of my home town and family.