When I'm at my saddest and I've lost all hope When I can't do anything but sit around and mope When in my chest I know only hurt Not hope, not happiness and I can't trust my heart When I'm blind to all but my own treacherous pain When I feel trapped and held down by everything from shadow to chain That's when the paper becomes my arms The pen I hold in my hand becomes the knife that does the harm And the ink is my blood that's spilt across the perfect white paper and stained it
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