I no longer want to walk this barren path alone,
I’m weary and frustrated of being on my own.
I long for some happiness to take away the pain,
But however hard I try, the results are the same.

It’s beginning to push me over the edge,
I’m considering a rope, or an extremely high ledge.
Pain or painless, which way should I choose?
Sometimes I just wish, someone else would be in my shoes.

Life, it is so tedious, everyday seems the same,
Sometimes I just wonder; if it’s all one sick game.

So I go up to my room and arm myself with the tool,
It’s the only thing to take away the pain, it is my only
fuel.
It’s my only source of power; it is my only control.
It is therefore my power, my strength, and also my calling.

An hour, maybe half, of mopping blood passes by,
The pain is unreal, but it’s not the reason I cry.

It stops. I practice my fake smile.

So I hide my marks, pull on my gloves of black lace,
And I dream, I will find a better place.