Trace my scars with a silver pin
Hold my breath, and shove it in
Pulsate, bleed in perfect rhythm
Wrap my wounds in pure, white linen
I feel pain, but it feels good
It won't kill me, I wish it would
I sit here bored, thinking of a way
To make this my final, last day
They question me, they ask what's wrong
They want to hear me sing my songs
They want to call my mom and dad
Because I always feel so sad
I just want them to leave me be
There's nothing that is wrong with me
I just want something else to do
Instead of being just like you
They still think that I'll end my life
If someone leaves around a knife
They always try their best to spy
And see if they can make me cry
It seems they think that I'm not real
I'm just a doll, so I can't feel
And that's the thing that makes me mad
The fact that they make me feel bad
Make my scars with a rusted pin
Held my breath, felt it cut in
Trickle, sting in perfect streams
But I told them it was just a dream
They let me go, so I went home
I sat down and wrote this poem
I took some pills and went to bed
Tomorrow they will find me dead.
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