Died

You never knew...
You never understand...
You will never see...
You refuse to hear...
You could never feel...
You should never give me life...

This scar on my wrist...
They were gifts from you.
The day I took that knives,
Slit my wrist,
And let the blood flow...
This thick puddle of blood stain,
I left them on the floor.
I'll never forget it.

My wrist didn't hurt that bit,
But my soul pained,
Like millions of knives stabbing it apart.
You who never was there,
Could never ever read my behaviour that day.
It wasn't about attention or money,
It was I rebelling against you,
You only see me here,
But I hold no meaning to you.

My blood that flow out of me,
It shows how that instant,
I hated my guts, my life...
I wanted nothing of you,
Left printed in me.
For it's such a painful memory of you,
That I cannot hold to have anymore.
I hated myself to be a part of you,
Even more knowing that,
We shared the same blood.

I slit my wrist the second time,
I didn't wish to live anymore,
I didn't wish to be forgiven by anyone,
For being stupid at that time,
I didn't regret dying if I could...
The blood kept flowing...
My vision became unclear...
For all I know my surrounding became dark again.