Fifty ropes tied, I balance, but I Am not a balanced person anymore. I am not a happy person anymore. I Left the chemicals my body needed Underneath ***** nails and screeching skin. Let me out. Ropes, you know you'll win. I fell six times, the seventh Endured it's wind willingly.
I am not a lucky person. I broke seven times, I have a knack at being me, and I don't want that. So I'll let you use me, maybe you'll yield the cars and wield a blade that'll slash the tires, not my heart. Not his skin. I'm tired of liars and killers inside me, they must abide me, and I must obey them. I can't convey them, or they'll condemn me. Help me, before i display them-