Lies are the bedrock of this hell in which we live
She told herself that she had nothing left to give
Her head was in an oven and her wrists were slashed to bits
And the burn marks on her upper leg spelled out the word "bullshit"
Sometimes she had to hurt herself so she could understand
The pale skin on her face contrasted with scars on her hands
The only times she kissed a boy were when she needed to
And once or twice she forced herself to keep it up right through
The times she gave the act up were the times she felt alone
And yet they were the only times she truly felt at home
When she cried
She was alive
And when she died
She had been crying