What pains me most, is whatever ails you. But you don't want to talk about it. So I won't. And when you ask me what's wrong. Why there's that desperate look of pain in my eyes. I'll tell you I'm fine. Because I know you don't want to talk about it. --------------------------------------------- I'm laying on a razor blade. slowly cutting deeper and deeper as my worries push me further down the knife. I'll have to go one way or the other soon, before I'm split in two. Which way to fall. The frying pan. Or the fire.