• Some people die,
    Because they hate life.
    They always try,
    To give into the knife.

    They have no reasons,
    To live through eachday.
    No one to help them,
    So they throw their lives away.

    As for me,
    All I can say,
    Is that at one time,
    I was the same way.

    Sometimes it whispers,
    The old fears in my head.
    I try to ignore it,
    But I wish I was dead.

    I know it doesn't help,
    These things that I wish.
    For I think of my friends,
    And knew I would be missed.

    People will call names,
    Call me baby or demanding.
    But if I'm the weak one,
    Why am I still standing?

    Some people die,
    Because they hate life.
    But they never try,
    To live life, without the knife.