Lemons into lemonade...
That's what they tell me.
It's so hard to make lemonade
When your wrists want to bleed.
The juice stings my flesh
And I just want to end.
The scars remain on my flesh
A reminder of my friend.
Pain is the only one I can tell
Nothing else is real.
Other people will spill and tell
The secret of how I feel.

Lemons into lamentation
That's all I have today-
Nothing but hopeless lamentation-
Until life stops dumping lemons on my tray.