Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance
Dead.
That's what my soul is.
Dead.
You killed it.
You murdered it viciously.
Society.
Pffft.
What's popularity good for?
No one cared about me.
So in return,
No one will miss me.
I wasn't okay.
But no one bothered to help.
So I did it.
Grabbed the razor.
And put it to my skin.
The red liquid never came.
I only ever scratched the surface.
I wish I could've seen it.
The scarlet ribbons of fluid.
Pouring from my wounds.
People always wondered why I covered up.
Why? they asked.
Because of you.
Because of everything we've become.
I never meant to scratch so deep.
So deep it did draw the red rushing to the surface.
Spilling onto my white flesh.
And dripping on the floor.
My shoulders and hips hurt.
I tried it again.
The gashes across my skin.
Ow.
I see something.
It's a hooded figure.
"Come with me," he said,
"It's time to go."
So off I go.
I wonder who'll attend my funeral.
Who will watch my mahogany casket drop into the ground?
Will they see me lying there, pale and dead, in that box?
My coffin.
My last comfort.
My last bed.
I tried to take drowning lessons.
They failed because I always swam to the surface.
I tried pills.
The booze I drank only counteracted them.
It's not fair.
I should be allowed to die in peace.
I tried to jump.
But my brother found me.
I think it's high time I died.
So.
Ow.
I dug into a vein.
The blood, it's pouring onto this page.
It's smearing some of my words.
I'm lightheaded.
The other wrist.
I sliced it too.
And now.
I get what I always wanted.
Endless quiet.
Heavenly peace.
And a beautiful blackness.
Sincerely,
Gerard and Claire
So, this was actually written about my feelings. I'm slightly lightheaded right now. I did something stupid I regret.
Oh God.
I have previously self-harmed. But only when it gets really bad do I bring out my sharp object.
I'm gonna go to sleep soon.
See you if I feel like waking up.
I hope I do.
Because life is just a dream for the dead.
And I am a misguided ghost in the Black Parade.
But I'm not going to die.
So I'll shut my eyes, kiss consciousness goodbye.
And sleep.
And I am in NO way okay.
I'm far from okay.
I'm fucking dead inside.
Claire x
That's what my soul is.
Dead.
You killed it.
You murdered it viciously.
Society.
Pffft.
What's popularity good for?
No one cared about me.
So in return,
No one will miss me.
I wasn't okay.
But no one bothered to help.
So I did it.
Grabbed the razor.
And put it to my skin.
The red liquid never came.
I only ever scratched the surface.
I wish I could've seen it.
The scarlet ribbons of fluid.
Pouring from my wounds.
People always wondered why I covered up.
Why? they asked.
Because of you.
Because of everything we've become.
I never meant to scratch so deep.
So deep it did draw the red rushing to the surface.
Spilling onto my white flesh.
And dripping on the floor.
My shoulders and hips hurt.
I tried it again.
The gashes across my skin.
Ow.
I see something.
It's a hooded figure.
"Come with me," he said,
"It's time to go."
So off I go.
I wonder who'll attend my funeral.
Who will watch my mahogany casket drop into the ground?
Will they see me lying there, pale and dead, in that box?
My coffin.
My last comfort.
My last bed.
I tried to take drowning lessons.
They failed because I always swam to the surface.
I tried pills.
The booze I drank only counteracted them.
It's not fair.
I should be allowed to die in peace.
I tried to jump.
But my brother found me.
I think it's high time I died.
So.
Ow.
I dug into a vein.
The blood, it's pouring onto this page.
It's smearing some of my words.
I'm lightheaded.
The other wrist.
I sliced it too.
And now.
I get what I always wanted.
Endless quiet.
Heavenly peace.
And a beautiful blackness.
Sincerely,
Gerard and Claire
So, this was actually written about my feelings. I'm slightly lightheaded right now. I did something stupid I regret.
Oh God.
I have previously self-harmed. But only when it gets really bad do I bring out my sharp object.
I'm gonna go to sleep soon.
See you if I feel like waking up.
I hope I do.
Because life is just a dream for the dead.
And I am a misguided ghost in the Black Parade.
But I'm not going to die.
So I'll shut my eyes, kiss consciousness goodbye.
And sleep.
And I am in NO way okay.
I'm far from okay.
I'm fucking dead inside.
Claire x
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