All I see around me is a happy family but I am not.

All those scars and bruises make me want to mask,
they make me want to run and hide.

All those thoughts in my head saying
"I am worth nothing, nothing at all."
I resist all the things that come afterwards,
The wounds, the scars, and the pills.

Everyone tells me that I must have a reason to be this way
A reason to bleed
A reason to want to die
By pills, pills and more pills.

These reasons to live
These reasons to die
I have to choose my way to go
to fight or to die.