• Running
    away from the killer-
    your friends, yourself.
    You thought you were safe.
    But honestly?
    No.

    The pain
    ensues-
    engulfing you, drowning you.
    Sharp words cut through like knives,
    and you hear every last
    one.

    Friends?
    or enemies-
    I don't know the truth, don't know what's right.
    You love me one day, hate me the next.
    And you do it just because you
    can.

    Fake
    personalities tend to crumble-
    put them under pressure, make them crack.
    But you don't always like what you get,
    you just like what you
    hear.

    Die.
    Just die-
    It would make them all happy, and I'd feel no more pain.
    Just take it all away.
    It's not like they'd say, "I miss
    you"

    Slit
    your wrists-
    point the gun, any way'll work.
    But would they really be satisfied?
    Or do they just like hearing you
    scream?