I can't tell him..
that I'm always lost,
that I'm always scared,
that I'm always more dead than alive.
Because boys just don't understand,
that sometimes even having wings,
won't make you fly.
And this isn't what I wanted,
of love.
This isn't the symphony
that haunts my weary mind.
I can't concentrate
on life.
I just can't live,
without death.
I just can't seem
to stop hurting you.
And I keep yelling at you,
to stab me back,
put the gun against my head,
as I did with you,
but you won't,
because you always said,
that you would never hurt
a girl.