You look at me and you see that I'm sad,but you don't care to ask why.
You just assume that I'm mad at the world or its something i can just brush off my shoulder.
Its not like that though I'm sad because of what you said to me. To me it was like taking a razor to my wrists.
You don't care though you never did so now i think why should I?
The words you said are the same things my dad would have told me.
The thing is you have the wrong idea about why I am the way i am. You keep asking me what is wrong with me, its a little f***ed up that you don't understand why I'm upset.
You put the gun to my head and pulled the trigger, and that's what killed what happiness i had left that my dad didn't take away.