I've Been Classified As Many Things In My Last Five Years
Goth, Punk, Rocker, Skater, and My Favorite Emo
So What If I Use Cutting As A Way To Hide My Fears
Whats It Matter That My Self-Esteem Is Dangerously Low
But My So Called Friends Only Like Me For My Style Of Dress
I Can Count On One Hand The Amount Of True Friends I Have
Those Few People Would Pay The Ultimate Price For Me I Feel I'm Worth Less
I'm No Trend Setter and I Don't Follow The Fads
So Many False Friends Like Leaches Sucking Me Dry
They Proclaim There Loyalness To Me But They Won't Defend Me
Were Where They When I Needed Support Or When I Cried
They'll Take Advantage Of Me and Leave Me For Dead Beaten and Bloody
I'd Give My Life For Any and All My Friends Even The Fake Ones
Sadly Though Most Of Them Would Never Do The Same
They Are Only Here To Slow Me Down and Have There Fun
They'll Play Me Like A Childs Board Game
My Real Friends Don't Put Me Down If I Turn To The Razorblade
They Would Just As Me Why I Do It and Try To Help Me
The Cuts Will Scab, Flake, and Scar But Unlike Them My True Friends Will Never Fade
My Fake Friends Will Always Want Something I'll Never Be Free
Here I Wait To Board My Flight and Go Home
I Come Here To See Two Good Friends and I Am Leaving With One
But One Is Better Than None It's Better Than Being Alone
As For You My Old Friend We Are Done
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem