I wish that I could fly,

Sometimes I want to die

I hate that I feel this way, so often.

To soar above the world,

Why do I feel so cold?

To hate myself that much, help!

To escape from life,

I take out the knife,

To cut, give purpose, to feel.

They try to understand,

Say "I'll hold your hand"

But the one I really need always end up leaving,

Can I blame them? No, I'd go if it were me.

Its just a rough teen thing.

No, I'm telling you it ain't!

I'm just like you inside,

I'm sick of being me

I'd love to trade to a tiny little village,

The type no-one leaves.

Where my only concern is to get some food

And make my house from trees.

I hate ideas I have,

So wrong. If only I could tell someone,

What gets me so down.

They hear about the cutting,

They all think its so bad.

But its not the thing that bothers me,

Its not what makes me sad.

I wish that I could fly,

Sometimes I want to die

I hate that I feel this way, so often.

To soar above the world,

Why do I feel so cold?

To hate myself that much, help!

To escape from life,

I take out the knife,

To cut, give purpose, to feel.