There are many nights I find me crying myself to sleep,
At school I wonder if anyone can see that inside I weep,
I just want someone to hold me,
Tell me everything will be okay,
But if these people really knew me,
I wonder what they'd say,
If they knew about the nights I cried,
If they knew about the times I've lied,
Being myself is a strenuous task,
It's something i've denied,
And I wonder if they'd still love me after all the things i've
done,
A rusted knife to the wrist,
Watch the crimson blood run...
 
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