Blank puzzel peices of life, with no where to fit.
No picture to look back too, I just want to quit.
Sitting in my bed, listening to the rain.
I pull out my razor blade, to ease the pain.
Scattered memories come flashing back.
Good ones, and bad ones, just like falling off a rack.
Going to school.
In class, trying not to cry.
Trying to pay attention.
Being bothered by a fly.
Grades are getting lower.
No matter how hard I try.
Being called in by the teachers, counclers, and priniple.
Just to ask me why.
Getting made fun of for taking pills.
And my mental disabilities.
Oh, what some fun thrills.
Storming out of class, without asking, sitting in a corner.
Just look at the looks that they give you.
I just want some sort of border.
Sending all sorts of messages.
"Is she crazy?"
"No, don't worry, it's just her coming off and on of her pills."
Do they know what it's like?
To be told, by their teacher "No" when you ask to go to the office, to take thoughs pills, so you DON'T have to feel like that?
Do they know what it's like?
To be asked "Again?" when you go in to get your pills, so you can hide, these, so said feelings.
Sitting here, typing this message.
Tears rolling down my eyes.
Adding more things to this "poem."
And so said "lies."
Then that came last night to my mind.
The more I add, the more I feel pain, the suffer, the hurt.
Not knowing why.
Taking 11 pills a day minimum.
Getting called a pill popper.
It makes me wonder.
If I did just pop pills.
And just... take this life, and drop her.
No picture to look back too, I just want to quit.
Sitting in my bed, listening to the rain.
I pull out my razor blade, to ease the pain.
Scattered memories come flashing back.
Good ones, and bad ones, just like falling off a rack.
Going to school.
In class, trying not to cry.
Trying to pay attention.
Being bothered by a fly.
Grades are getting lower.
No matter how hard I try.
Being called in by the teachers, counclers, and priniple.
Just to ask me why.
Getting made fun of for taking pills.
And my mental disabilities.
Oh, what some fun thrills.
Storming out of class, without asking, sitting in a corner.
Just look at the looks that they give you.
I just want some sort of border.
Sending all sorts of messages.
"Is she crazy?"
"No, don't worry, it's just her coming off and on of her pills."
Do they know what it's like?
To be told, by their teacher "No" when you ask to go to the office, to take thoughs pills, so you DON'T have to feel like that?
Do they know what it's like?
To be asked "Again?" when you go in to get your pills, so you can hide, these, so said feelings.
Sitting here, typing this message.
Tears rolling down my eyes.
Adding more things to this "poem."
And so said "lies."
Then that came last night to my mind.
The more I add, the more I feel pain, the suffer, the hurt.
Not knowing why.
Taking 11 pills a day minimum.
Getting called a pill popper.
It makes me wonder.
If I did just pop pills.
And just... take this life, and drop her.
