Don't judge me by my work...

I snuck into the kitchen, it was around midnight,
And took one of my mother's best cutting knives.
I tried to get back to my room without making any noise,
But there was stuff on the floor like coths and toys.

I went into my room, closed the door and got into bed,
And pulled up my covers, to cover my head,
I placed the knife over my heart,
Hoping we shall finally part.

I plundge it deep feeling searing pain,
Knowing the blood's draining from my vains.
Feeling blood trickle down my arm,
You can no longer do me any harm.

My heart is slowing down its pace,
The warmth draining from my face.
My shirt dampened and also my bed,
I feel nothing, I'm almost dead.

Place me in my coffin,
Burry me six feet deep.
Close my eyes and the lid,
Let me finaly rest in peace.