The pressence of depressionThey can smell it on me.They know my weakness,They want me to die.They imprison mehurling insults insted of sympathy,Wishing id run off a building and hit with a loud splat.But Im not, you seeIn reality you are all the evil ones. Not me.I wear black and have a liking for things that are darkYet you lie there and try to fuck me up worse.Sadists always attract to depression.They can smell it on me.
Reapers angel ashesA bitter pill,You'll hate me untilI slash the glass across your throat.Those who run from mewill be the first deciesed.Im not who you want me to beIm nothing but the devil, you seeI dont why you're mad at meIf you let me Ill set you free.The ashes lieunder my skin.
Boarderline Personality DisorderLife is Black and white.You either love me or hate me,If you dont hug me you hate me.Always either alseep or awake,Either living long and happy or suffering our fate.Your either kind or your a bitch.Your either Fat or you are thin.Your either happy or sad.Your either living or dying.I either hate you or love you.Im always either ontop of the world or cutting my wrists.People are either being loved or abused,people are either getting murdered or healed.People are either burning alive or drowning.One or the other,Good or bad.Black and white.Happy or sad.
DisintergrateI scrape their names and dig at my wristsThen I drink the wine of ages and transform to a corpse.No one gave me their lifeI never wanted to ask.I wont go to the light ill only be trappedThats enough space to remember all the times I collapsed.I lost the battle with blood disorders and sorrow at every turnIm not the only one who caused me to disintergrate.Im feeling better nowIm empty as a forgotten box.Im looking better now no sleepless nights destroying my skin.My eyes are more open then they've ever beenAll those sadists were just as mental as me.
Wheres my angelI want to sleep.I dont want to wakeI deserve to be forgottenSo ill sleep forever.All the people ive met, all the ones i love will smile more when Im asleep.Someone be my angelSet me freePut me to sleepAnd hopefully ill wake up dead
Drama QueenHow can you sit there and call me dramatic?Is silently crying myself to sleep making sure no one hears me dramatic?Is silently with drawing from people dramatic?Is wearing long sleeves to hide my scars dramatic?Is sitting on the staires, head down and silent dramatic?Is being silent for months then crying I want to die dramatic?Take alook at yourself, sweetheart...Crying to all your friends because you couldnt straighten your hair?What about posting all over your facebook how much you hate everyoneor how much everyone supposedly hates you?You consider your life being over when you dont know which boy to ask to that fucking dance.Yet your always telling me to live in a poor country if I think my lives bad.The thing is I never said my life was bad. You see me as a threarbecause you feel you will not always be in the centre of attention
When I Thinkwhen I think of youI shiver in painI feel so coldI sigh in shameThen I need you to hold.Your like a ghostDark and paleYour always there in my headBut never when I need you most.
Living is overatedLiving is overated,Everyone whose supposed to love you are there to hate youon those days you truely want to die.Living is overated,Everyone sees me as a demon, cold and ugly.But its them angels who torment me, make me want to die who are truely the devils.Living is overated,but I dont want to die.If I die ill be stuck,If I live ill be fucked.The ones who are supposed to love metell me to shut my mouthon days I truely wish to die.Living is overated,Im no ones special someone.I fall for people who hate me and want to abuse meHow can you accuse me?Living is overated,I just truely want to die.