an: I don't own Papa Roach or their songs. I just get inspired my music once in awhile.

Cut my life into pieces, this is my last resort.

The blaring radio cut harshly into the silence that had taunted her for hours. Silence was cruel, in the silence she thought of things she was sure that no one else would understand.

Suffocation, no breathing. Don't give a fuck if I cut my arm, bleeding...

She stared at the small dagger in her hand. It had just ended up in her room, under her pillow.

Would it be wrong, would it be right, If I took my life tonight? Chances are that I might.

Would it? Would it even matter? Who would care? She hugged her knees, the tears streaming from her eyes, soaking her jeans.

Mutilation out of sight, and I'm contemplating suicide.

She stared at the arms hugging her knees, they told a story of lies, 'accidents', and pain; covered with cuts, burns nail marks, dried blood, and painfully, carefully, carved words. He arms were all that she could see, but the scars on her shoulders and back were a painful reminder that skin could be a bloody canvas. She ran the fingers of her right hand over the wings carved on the back of each shoulder, the pentagram centered between them. Each one had been so excruciatingly painful, but so liberating. The freedom brought on by the pain was beautiful. But that feeling of freedom always subsided, replaced by screaming, and lashing out at the friends who had helped by carving them. Then the freedom and the liberation just stopped. She kept carving, others continued helping, but it always took more and deeper for satisfaction.

Cause I'm losing my sight, losing my mind, wish somebody would tell me I'm fine.

She dropped the dagger, watching her blood flow out, dripping around the blade. She was dizzy, vision blurring. She smiled drunkenly at the two deep slashes extending from her wrists almost to the bend in each arm. She fell to her knees before her radio, feeling the bass surrounding her.

Nothing's all right, nothing is fine. I'm running and I'm crying. I can't go on, living this way..

She began leaning toward the radio.

Can't go on.

She blinked slowly, swaying.

Nothings all...

She closed her eyes closed and she fell forward, smiling softly.

Right.

The radio was silent as she fell. The repeat function took over.

Cut my life into pieces...

End