I'm angry, I'm sad, I'm hopeless, are you glad!?!
I'm pitiful, and weak, I'm a selfish, spoiled freak.
Change yourself they say, if you don't like what you see,
It all starts with a thought, but not even that I can be.
When you tell me to work, why do I cry?
It's not because I'm lazy, it's because I hate me inside.
Gather the whips, gather the fire, string me to a pole, and hit me till I expire.
I am filled with self hate, and yet they can't see,
how close this razorblade is, and how my wrist will soon bleed.
How easy it would be, to let it all go astray, to finish my work, and work me away.
Kill me now, I beg you please,
kill me before I turn into that monster begging on it's knees.
Oh, is that a mirror?