All I ever do is live,
what if you have nothing else to give?
This cynical world just wants a little more
of my soul. but what for?
so they can use it,
So they can abuse it.

I have become so weak,
To finally have rest is all that I seek.
There is a battle within, between life and death,
A struggle I feel with every sigh and breath,
But I feel like death has already won
Now that I know where my dad hides the gun.

Why must living cause me so much strife?
The pain goes through me like the sharpest of knifes,
I am so very lost,
But is a time of peace worth the cost?
Of my life?
I don't know,
I don't know.