Why, does everyone say I'm dumb?
It only affects who I will someday become.
Why, do people turn away?
When all I want is for them to stay.
Why, do people lie to me?
Lie about the way they feel, lie about what they see.

Why, is my world shrinking?
Why, are my thoughts worth thinking?
Why, at this moment am I contemplating death,
To give my body it's one last breath.

I sit alone crying, blade firmly in hand,
I won't say I'm not afraid, but death is a great adventure.
Then again so is life.
So now I sit here asking my self,