But they do. And the fact that I'd even consider taking my life to stop this hate and depression is so sad.
I'll travel to that track where you saw your first concert together, and pay a visit to bereta.
Tell her I say hello. Kiss her lips and squeeze her tight right after saying my last goodbyes.
Because I can't even look at a ring without wanting to put a bullet through my skull.
What a shame that I have to resort to this. What a shame that my depression has led me right to the ground when I was so high.
I was so high up on my happiness, that I forgot what was below. What was behind that mask I could have sworn you took off.
I was so high, and I fell so far.
Just don't worry about me.
No comments:
Post a Comment