I have a confession It's called an obsession. A preoccupation With my aggression I feel it building Like Lego for adults Doctors say it's part and parcel of my Depression. If that's the case then All serial killers and not nice people are just depressed. Not obsessed with hurt or pain or emotion. Just a little down Take a pill Chill. Don't **** Don't obsess You're just depressed.
She was alone at 3 am Everyone thought she Went to bed at 12 But what they didn't know Was she was carving into her skin late at night They thought she was happy But they were terribly wrong
She carved words into her body Into her wrist, into her thigh ****, *****, worthless, failure, fat Were all carved into her beautiful body Nobody knew the pain she endured Nobody knew