IRC-Galleria

The medication makes you see
little men with black and white make-up.
You say they look like clowns,
and we all know you're afraid.

Last year you cut your wrists open
with the knife I gave you for Christmas.
And you laughed when we talked about it yesterday.
And the day before.
You wear that white blouse,
so we can see the bloodstains.

You have behaviour problems.
You yell when you're alone.
And you know we hate you.

Just go on, go on and die.
There's no-one here to see you cry.