Nobody ever wanted me, but who would.
In everyone's eyes I'm not good enough, in all reality I'm just misunderstood.

I have my flaws but I have good things.
I'm loyal, honest, and I know how hold on to life by thin strings.

But I'm also ugly, worthless, and a waste of breath.
People shouldn't have hope in me my depression will bring death.

And this is why, nobody will take this mess.
I'm always depressed, angry, hateful, Well I'm just "to much stress".

So I lay alone, nobody to wipe my tears, noone to stop the blood from dripping from my wrist.
Laying on my bed room floor dying, soon I won't even exist.

My voices scream, my thoughts could be hidden in pills.
Overdosing, bleeding out, crying damn being lonely kills.