There's some people I don't know anymore. I don't know what to think of them. Are they my friends? Are they my enemies? How many scars do they have? I've learned so many secrets. Met so many people I can trust. Knife. Knife And they say they didn't promise to tell that secret. Knife Tears Blood Scars It's the same pattern, can't you see? It's always me that's gonna end up burned. "Yes ma'am" "Yes sir" I'm your daughter. Why do I call you that? Why can't I call you mom and dad? Why do you hit me when I don't do what I'm supposed to? Why are you like this? And because of one little thing-you have rights to yell at me? No. Shut up. You can't. Drop it. Just cut it out. You're not strong. Try being me. I'm more emotionally strong than most people. And I hide it behind a mask. And paint. Who would guess? Exactly.