I cut my hands on thorns,
as you stood there and watched.
Blood running from my hands down my fingers,
yet you do nothing, but fucking stare!

I've gotten your attention,
but gotten no respect.
You don't talk to me,
now you no longer look at me.

I've fallen to my knees,
begging for all your apologies.
No, you turn your back towards me,
what did i do to deserve this?

Blood has now stopped flowing.
My hands-now scabing.
Hanging on the roses.
Thorn digging into my flesh,
Causing the scabs to bleed.

I've sunk down so low,
only myself would know.
My troubles haunt me everyday,
My problems never subside.