So many things weighing on my plate
I wonder what it is that fuels this self-hate.
Why do I keep all these things inside?
What is it that I'm trying to hide?
They don't know me, no one really does,
They only know the person I was.
If someone only knew how it hurts to smile.
If someone only knew why my mouth always taste like bile
Seething up from the depths of my stomach up into my throat
If I took my life, would I even leave a note?
I feel it rising up again,
I recognize these symptoms: the familiar rage within.
Enough time has gone by
I could do it, I could lie
I could play them all like she played me.
Make them think I was sane and healthy.
Take my meds like a good little girl
But keep hurting myself, so no one else will.

February 2003