"End of the day

Falling into that bed again

Sorrow carved into my ceiling like a


I can't contain

Guess my secret's out

(Obsession is one of my finer points)

Crossed fingers, clasped hands

Is nothing sacred anymore?

Jealousy is scribbled across my notebook

Like Midnight

But blue looks good on you---

---just a part of growing up;

(That's why my skin crawls, dear friend).

Vicious violence of a young girl's mind

Sounds something like 'teen suicide',

But I could be wrong.

Envious people never seem to die fast enough (for my taste)."