ur only friend

the cold metal a cross ur skin the sharp jag as it sildes a cross ur rist blood rain down ur arms ur pulse gettin high and the feelin of intesten pain throw ur soul u sit their cryin in pain you feel as if you need the pysical pain cuz it hides the emotial pain knowing the emotial pain harts more then anything u wood pick stick a knife in ur stomch then going back 2 that that nasty on 4giiven pain emotail pain the bitter scars of the night be4 still on your arms but no 1 can see u now 1 nows ur their they care about alchole more then u and moeny u here them shout and reach 4 ur frind that cool bladed nowin there is no light at the end of the tunnel 4 u u sit there tryin 2 contrated on the pysical pain and keep wonderin when it will all STOP.