She pressed the blade into her pale skin,
Waiting for the blood to come out.
She's crying as she repeated the action,
Oh no, what is this all about?
Did Mommy not love you enough,
Or did Dad love you too much?
Do you crave the breathtaking hug,
Or do you fear every touch?
Did Brother call you fat,
Or does your belly cry for food?
Did your Uncle die,
Or does dying sound good?
She clings to the knife,
As if it holds the answer she needs.
She is all alone in her room,
Nobody is aware of the pain she bleeds.
You didn't do anything wrong,
Oh, no, don't do this, please.
They made you this way,
They were the disease.
You shouldn't hurt yourself,
For proving them wrong.
You should hurt them,
By proving them you're strong.
The road to recovery isn't easy,
And it takes a lot of vitality.
But fight against your inner demons,
And it will become a reality.
Never stop fighting.