Things have been relatively fair
With the sweet kiss of October's air
Shedding bracelets, now longer sleeves
And of course a smile that everyone believes
Quite factually he's manged to fool himself
Bittling his emotions, hiding them on a shelf
And he's found a girl who might actually stay
Until he thinks, what a lovve story cliche
He's happy, truly happy, so he thinks
But then he realize's he's back on the brink
Slowly bordering relapse and recovery
Without any help from social anxiety
He's capable of laughing at simple jokes
But he fears someday he'll be a hoax
He's the guy girls all adore
Yet he believes he's someone they'll deplore
Pushed people awqay, has yet one friend
Slipping back to old ways, alcohol requisite
Knuckles bruised, self petulant
Tear stained face, whiskey on his breathe
Each shot represents a friend who left
He writes his goodbye letter and crumbles it up
He feels even worse, he's low on luck
And thing is no one knows what's truly happening
Unable to see his mutilating agony
His cries were silent whispers; unheard
No one knew, he never said a word
Till everyone woke up and he was gone
No one knew who did him wrong
Used his blade to create an allegory
And the scars fit together to tell his story