From the moment I saw you,
I knew that something was wrong.
What makes you laugh makes others cry,
but I don't want to see you die.

Your red wrists, they make me kneel,
they make me break down and cry.
Oh, sweet child, why?
Please don't pull that trigger,
you don't know what you're doing.

You run away when I approach,
as if I am a lowly cockroach.
Please don't be afraid, I swear that I care.
I just want to mend your broken heart.
Dying is not an art.

Your wrists, they make me kneel,
they make me me break down and cry.
Oh, sweet child, why?
Please don't pull that trigger,
you don't know what you're doing.

Life is not always good,
I know that is true,
but there must be some part of you
that still wants to stay and face another day.

Your red wrists, they make me kneel,
they make me break down and cry.
Oh, sweet child, why?
Please don't pull that trigger,
you don't know what you're doing.

Don't give up,
don't take that jump.
I am here,
so close your eyes and cry.
Let it fly, let it go, let it out.

Elizabeth Amos

 

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