What it will write next, I really don't know
My hand is hurting, yet I just keep writing
Tears want to come, but I just keep fighting
Being this said is like an addiction
The tape around my heart is coming undone, as well as the stitching
Right now, more than anything, all that I need
Is to sit here and watch myself slowly bleed
Am I alive? Or am I really dead?
Am I sane? Or am I losing my head?
I want to see the blood pour down my skin like rain
I want to feel the sting, I want to feel the pain
I want to cry, I want tears to flow out of empty eyes
This imagination is saving me from a world that I despise


