• Here I go again,
    walking through the crowded halls,
    tortured by the constant bicker,
    and the insults in my ear.
    I'm sick of all the teasing,
    and the constant mockery,
    so I curl up in my corner,
    and I try to hide my face,
    as the tears begin to fall,
    so I tell myself again,
    'you know they're not your friends'
    and so I can take no more,
    this all will come to end,
    I put on my red lipsitck
    and my eye makeup so perfect,
    so that when the drugs are done,
    just before the very end,
    I grab my razor blade,
    and dig it so far in,
    when finally my vision is blurred,
    and I collapse upon the ground,
    the words carved in my wrists read only...
    am i pretty now?