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Hundreds of paper sprawl on my floor
Red ink smeared 'cause of my teardrop
All the unsent words lay on the paper
Slowly losing their meaning and waiting to disappear

Hundreds of wafer-thin birds are hanging on my tiles
Silently singing for the anniversary of my demise
Begging for my soul to move on
But, no... i ahve no point in moving on

Lost in life unable to arise
Hanging on a line in an object called syringe
Slowly killing me from the inside along with him
The one that living inside a clueless world
Never realize whats I'm trying to do for him
Could I blame him on anything??
Or... should i blame myself??

Hundreds of bottles breaking behind my door
Tiny pieces on glasses scatter unable to form together anymore
Just like my heart on the day he broke it up with an unseen hammer of his
I'm pathetic...

Hundreds of razors has covered in my blood
The sickening red and coppery tasted that running from my wrist
I hear them pleading for me to stop and crying the darkest tears that ever been formed
What's the point of me holding on