I wanted to hear the words “I love you”,
So badly, I didn't stop to think my actions through.
Now, rather than being loved,
I was mistreated and shoved.
Instead of hearing those three minuscule words,
I was torn apart like bread to the birds.
I heard words alright.
But they weren't really polite.
They were hateful, spiteful.
The picture they drew was downright frightful.
And if one more day passes where I feel this alone,
The end result of my life, will become unknown.
They tell me I'm so young.
And my song is still unsung.
But my hearts already been wrung.
And every time I breathe in, it hurts my lungs.
If this is the pain I feel at seventeen,
Then set me on the guillotine!
Cover me with gasoline!
Spark the match and set me free!
Because I'd rather die for all to see,
Then to sit here, in pure agony,
And die slowly inside.
Without even a sliver of pride.
This thing that stands before you, twisted, and broken,
Was mangled because words were left unspoken.
Or maybe, it wouldn't have mattered.
I'm left this way, because of things that were left unsaid.
Think about that when you go to bed.