The roses are dying, screaming for light
The violets are crying, done fighting the cold night.
I look at you, and promise im just fine,
when under my shirt im bleeding in straight lines.
The razor blade in my pocket is gleaming with pride,
While im concealing the fact, that I’m dying inside.
Everyday I am consumed, eaten alive
by the securities I suppress, deep inside.
Scars, forever decorating my skin,
on the outside and yet deep within.
Days go past – years go by
My emotions still hidden, help, I want to die.
Maybe the best place for me is locked in chains,
for my mind is far past insane.
Should I follow my brain or my heart?
Should I stay, or should I depart?
it’s so very hard to decide,
should I stop, or continue my suicide.
I tell myself not to be afraid,
after all its only a little, shiny blade