I say I hate cliches, but I can't break free from them
I end up being the teen who hates her parents
I want to cry for help but who would help?
The adults?
Like that's new?
I don't even want help anymore.

I feel trapped
But the only one here to trap me is myself
I say a few words don't hurt
They don't.
I feel numb.
Dead.

I feel nothing.

What difference then is there in life and death?
They don't understand
How inviting the knife is.
Or how exhilarating heights are.
How I want to jump from the tallest building
Just
To taste true freedom.

But freedom
Is not what I want...

It want happiness.