Burn your bridges its not that I dont like you its more a case of wrong place wrong time cos in one week I will die. This is my second chance. This chemical, vitriol, corrupts my mind take me to my own place own time where Id happily reside. This is my second chance.
If god exists, hell forgive. Cos daylights wasted on eyes that choose to remain closed to what they have become: mindless workers who forget where everything went wrong.
Years of searching, I cant even find myself. It took a week of dying before I realised I was to afraid to be myself.
How do you feel when you see me and pity me a girl who once was so young so free? Do you wonder why I felt the need to end my life so early? But now it seems like Im stuck here to await what I suppose I imposed on myself with a heart that wants to die but still gave me a second chance.