I look in the mirror, doing the same motions each day,
I ask myself, does it get better, being this way?

I look longingly at my knife,
I would do anything to stop the fights.

But my wrists are now covered in red,
As I sigh and lay on my stained bed.

The darkness never leaves my heart,
And as I let a tear out, I know it's tearing me apart.

I'm tired, I want it all to end,
It's not as if I even have at least one friend.

Let me die, I beg, I plead,
My own Father told me to leave.

My wrists are covered in scars,
And I long to belong in someone's arms.

It's all thanks to you,
And no one has a clue...

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مسافر

ساعت23:23---18 مهر 1390

سلام. وبتون خیلی جالبه.خوشحال میشم به من سر بزنید

سوگند

ساعت11:46---10 مهر 1390

[وب سایت]

سلام.چطوری؟من آپم بدو بیا سر بزن نظر هم بده
منتظرتم هان

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