When skin and razor meet and embrace a line of blood is born The mascara runs down her face as her soul is tattered and torn her plastic smile is met by a thousand critical eyes and it seems that her pain is pointless strife as she tries to deal and wants to heal from the hell that is her life The razor cuts in deeper now as she winces from the pain Because the trials of her everyday life are every day the same She thinks she's shutting out her problems with a quick flick of her wrist And the wound still not yet dry fades into the thick black mist As she sits and tries to think of one person from whom she'd be missed She now knows its grown too late to avoid deaths final kiss And from her seat in this dark room she stares at her reflection as shadows dance around her face to contrast her complection Finally she is prepared to face the fear of life abstention And with one final cut she rests her head to complete her only intention to fade from this world without a noise to minimize her pain as her warm red life runs down her arms into the bathtub drain. -Me (you better comment!!!)