This is to the kids, who are battling depression,
Walking with a burden, but why? We do not question

Yet we sit in the back of the class room, guessing
when it’s written across their face they expression,

I know this girl and she told me her confession.

She said my mama’s a junkie and an alcoholic
My mom and dad are not together, which is better.
She said ,“my dad is pharmacist , but he doesn’t believe in medicine.”

He took me to a shrink and all she did was judged,
She was supposed to help me with my depression, but it’s a still the same, it did not budge

She said Are you listening, as I sat there in shock
I said,” yeah girl”, because I didn’t want her to stop.

She said he stays in his room and leaves me to tend to my brother, who is usually with my mother.

My grandmother and my father want me to go a diet,
They tell me I’m not good enough
Not smart enough

They tell me I’ll end up like my mother with needle holes and such
Taylar, are you listening to me this is why I cut.

I cut to let out the pain; I cut to make me feel somewhat sane
I cut, because that’s the only time I feel

She said blood excites me, it entices me
When it runs down my leg it feels so right to me.