a razorblade kiss, 
struck on my wrist,
life pours free,
let it be, let it be.
and as i lay and cry,
softly asking why,
i remember,
last december,
as sorrow pangs,
biten with depression's fangs,
red in blonde hair,
and there is nobody there.
nobody inside,
it's like the me i knew died,
but at my own funeral,
i never even cried.
like the above line,
i sound just fine,
but i dont fit,
in the place i sit,
god my life blows,
like nobody knows.

xoxKyelle