You disappear for weeks,
as if you are a painting
thats lost it's color,
a saint thats lost his
faith.

Those uniform scars you didnt want
people to see...
I saw them cutting up your legs.
You said it was just a form of release.

The hopelessness I've seen behind
wide eyes...
It's a sad story you won't
talk about with friends or family.

And I'm getting down on my knees, again.
To pray you'll be ok.
Because We can't have you doing something rash,
I mean, If I lose you, what else do I have?

And no one can say enough to calm your shakes;
I remember when I beat the hell out of you,
because you wouldn't speak,

And I can't give you faith, like you crave;
I remember when we'd talk about life,
on drawn out summer days.

So don't you give up now.
My best friend,
life is hard.
And If you lose yourself, you'll leave us all with permanant scars.