In my room alone I cry
with a razor in my hand
sheets are all covered in blood
while I wait for him to come back home
people call me names for cutting my skin through
but.. don't they too?
Don't they keep everything inside?
Don't they cry on their own all night?
Aren't they scared of silence too?
Aren't they running from the truth?
Hiding their pain with a mask..
Doing favors like if it was a task..
you are a hypocrite
that's what you are
I may cut myself
but at least I'm alive