I create this person in my head, and she's perfect. She's who I promised myself to be.
I cry for a reason, to become a winner
but the blood on my sleeves says I'm a sinner.
I hide myself behind these words of mine
hoping no ones smart enough to know i'm not really fine.
and dying sounds so pretty in a rhyme.
Its a joint in between my finger tips, it's past 2 am when the alcohol slips through my lips.
the thought always grips my throat, while I choke writing a suicide note.
I wake up each day saying hey this could be a good day
but then my pet demon comes and puts the shade of grey.
my tears they fall on my jeans, no one notices because they're staring at screens.
Am I the only one out of thirty teens?
I sometimes pretend my life's a bad dream, that's on repeat, but then
 I realized that this is reality and I scream.
and wish for sanity.
with every emotion, i wish for the day the colors will come,
waiting day by day for some
being trapped, failed, and closed into a ball of misery filled with distress that makes me dizzy.
peacefully my demon refuses to free my mind, i believe some people are not designed to be blessed, and it makes them something less.
 and all I got left is to choose whether to put on my armour be fore i throw myself into the war that is waiting for me to die.
sometimes I cry for what i have become.
Sometimes i cry for the reasons of my scars
Sometimes i cry for the demons I've left behind
Sometimes i cry because i miss the breath of someone in my bed
Sometimes i cry because i wish i was dead