I don't think I can call this life,
Since I've had to learn to live half alive.
Maybe I'm already dead,
Since lies to me you always fed.
I hate how no one can tell,
That for a while my life's been a living hell.
I don't want to runaway.
If I ran,
I'd be leaving behind everything I've ever had.
My life is just another pain,
And it just won't go away.
No one can help, no one can,
And maybe dead, I already am.
Suicide would be the only way to help,
Get away from this living hell.