I am the out cast of my family a victom of my own mind, a servivor of suicide, and the last of my kind. life is only the beginning but there is still the other side. what is left for me here but to lay down and die.

cuts apon my wrist remind me of the past, pain that will never go away but we all must lern to laugh. I feel like a prisoner of my own head the voices tell me things like they wish I were dead.

why am I still here
why am I not dead
why do people stair at me
its not like I have two heads
why do I listen to the voices in my head
why dose it feel like there my only friends

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║╔═╬╩╗╔╣╚═╗ put this on your
║╚╝║╬║║║╔╗║ site if you are or support
╚══╩═╩╝╚╝╚╝ Goths