Suicide
It's all your fault,
the fact that I died.
If it weren't for you,
I wouldn't have needed to hide.
Under the covers,
above this knife,
the simple end,
to this siblings strife.
To slash, to rip,
to tear apart.
To hold in your hand,
your fully deformed heart.
He gives you time,
to regret your desicion,
120 seconds to wish
you were still among the livin'.
And all of this would have stopped,
if it weren't for depression.
'cause i wouldn't be in
this self-pitying session.