erasethepain
03-11-2003, 01:48 AM
This is a song I wrote about my grandmother who is bipolar. My friend is too and his dad has it really bad. I feel sorry for him and seeing as it runs in my family, I figured I should write one as a voice for bipolar people.
These feelings pull me further away,
From the things I need to make it through everyday,
The sorrow I have isn't worth the torture,
But as soon as I break away,
I find myself lieing helpless in the corner,
With every word stuck in my head,
Dwelling for days over the words I should have said,
(I think of ways to make you suffer too)
Alone, inside my room,
I think of ways to get back at you,
Making things seem worse than they really are,
I convince myself to give into my twisted lies,
While the hate I have tortures me from the inside
Hiding underneath these sheets, I lose my breathe,
Easily imagining you stabbed to death,
Laughing inside as I wash the blood out of your hair,
Trying to make sure the evidence is not there,
But then I open my eyes, frightened and scared
and I promise myself not to ever feel this again,
But no matter how much I resist, my anger always takes me in
Alone, inside my room,
I think of ways to get back at you,
Making things seem worse than they really are,
I convince myself to give into my twisted lies,
While the hate I have tortures me from the inside
(I'm afraid that one day,
I will act on the things I keep inside,
and I will do something I will forever regret,
But nobody listens to the what I have to say
These feelings pull me further away,
From the things I need to make it through everyday,
The sorrow I have isn't worth the torture,
But as soon as I break away,
I find myself lieing helpless in the corner,
With every word stuck in my head,
Dwelling for days over the words I should have said,
(I think of ways to make you suffer too)
Alone, inside my room,
I think of ways to get back at you,
Making things seem worse than they really are,
I convince myself to give into my twisted lies,
While the hate I have tortures me from the inside
Hiding underneath these sheets, I lose my breathe,
Easily imagining you stabbed to death,
Laughing inside as I wash the blood out of your hair,
Trying to make sure the evidence is not there,
But then I open my eyes, frightened and scared
and I promise myself not to ever feel this again,
But no matter how much I resist, my anger always takes me in
Alone, inside my room,
I think of ways to get back at you,
Making things seem worse than they really are,
I convince myself to give into my twisted lies,
While the hate I have tortures me from the inside
(I'm afraid that one day,
I will act on the things I keep inside,
and I will do something I will forever regret,
But nobody listens to the what I have to say