How many cries does it take to heal the wounded?
The weakened and the saddened... When razor thin streaks lay across your arm. The world forgets who you are and turns their backs on you. Your cries are useless and your words, rejected. Everyone around you pretends to care, but would betray you in the blink of an eye. All of your friends have disappeared and won't be back anytime soon, due to the lack of inspiration you give.
But is it my fault?
Is it my fault that I have become like this? All of the lies and deceit has created a monster who will smile on the outside, but inside is corrupted and disastrous. I have become more willing to hurt everyone the same way they hurt me. This world is a monstrosity, full of kids who wouldn't care less whether you're hurting or cutting, yet we trust them anyway. Giving away our darkest secrets just to hear them call you a "freak" or a crazy "emo." The betrayal is beyond counting, yet we act like it is transparent; invisible. How many suicide attempts and actual suicides will it take for the world to finally put it's foot down and eliminate the hateful word of which we know. My ears are tired of hearing someone tell me to "go kill myself" like I am not a human being.
Why does it bother them that I am still alive? Does the sight of me really hurt them that much?
But I guess it's ok. If the sight of me bothers you that much, I will find a way to disappear from your sight and everyone else's permanently.