you probably wouldn't care.

You'd tell me that it was all my fault, that I deserve it

As you look at me with that same sad stare.

You tell me you wish the little girl

you used to know would come back

but it's too late. She's dead.

She'll never return to my crazy, fucked up head.

You won't let me be what I want to be

but the truth is, it was you who made me this way.

You keep shoving the knife into my heart,

deeper, deeper, and deeper, revealing the darkness inside.

I'm tired of all the yelling,

tired of all the blame.

You always find a way to make me miserable

I wish I was dead.

If you only knew the way I was feeling

would you try to make it better?

Somehow I doubt it but only time will tell

so until then, I hope you burn in hell.