What I cried for held no purpose. I'm left ill in every sense of the word. I need a knife. I need to sacrifice something which has no right. On 11:11, I wish for tender skin.
You broke my heart with apologies lacking in sincerity. Your begging seemed cruel because you knew I cared.
I was hoping for a quick fix, what I got was a dull knife. There has never been such a distinct reason for my self harm. He's got me on a string, oh, how I wish it was a noose.
You're constantly pulling.
I never expected much from you, but you seemed endlessly infatuated with my mystery. You solved the mystery, the girl isn't the only skeleton in her closet tonight. Now you're pissed that shes hurting herself against what you believe is reasonable.
It's you. It didn't used to be, but then you saved her, now you hurt her, now its you.
You only want to save the hurt girl because then you'll feel great, because deep down, you're hurt too...