Everything that they said about me, that's what I'm not.
I hate the sun, people who's alive, you, and my life.
I love the moon, people who's dead, me, and my dead.
You notice my cuts, not my scars.
You see my smile, not my pain.
You see my happiness, not my suffering.
Your life means nothing without me.
If I told you what I was, would you turn your back on me?
And if I seem dangerous, would you be scared?
I get that feeling just because, everything I touch isn't dark enough.
If the problem are lies in me?