It's starting to get old
Hearing my friends all say
My head isn't sick
It's almost every day

They don't understand my trauma
They don't understand my past
They don't understand my future
And that they could be the person to see me last

I say depressing stuff
And make jokes about my life
They know that I'm not joking
But they wouldn't tell me to put down the knife

The last breath I could take wouldn't be funny
Yet my life would be made into a joke
I think I need to tell them
But it's hard to explain that I'm unable to cope

They think it's to be cool
But I need professional help
I've been put on medication
But I just want to melt