Rip me open.
Bleed me dry.
Clip my wings.
Watch me cry.
Version 2:
Rip me open.
Bleed me dry.
Clip my wings.
Watch me die.
Cry and die are infact the same thing since you often times feel like you are dying when you cry.
She sits alone, over there in the dark corner.
The walls painted black, the floor covered in blood.
Tears running down her cheek, her hair covers the deep wounds.
She aims the knife against her throat; "the one deeply wounded
shall not continue his journey in pain, but rather live forever in paradise".
It was eight or nine years ago
My parents got into a fight
I was completely left outside
Unnoticed by others
Alone I sat
In the dark windy night
I stood up into the darkened sky
And counted the little shiny stars
The full moon glowed above me
Comforted me in its warmth's shadow
I faintly smiled to myself
And lowered my head down
Tiny drops of rain fell from my face
And so the darkness became my only friend
It filled my heart with more emptiness
It crawled through my skin and dug a hole inside of me
It was then; I first felt the loneliness of being alone
It was then; I found the joy in this gifted emotion
It was then; I cheri