You began cutting yourself when you felt your life was starting to head downhill.
You wrote in a secret diary that your only wish was to have the same size waist as me.
You hid the scars well from mum and dad, but the evidence was in your face.
You wrote in a diary that you wished they'd see more of you than me.
The bloodstained tissues hidden in the bin, betraying the homework you said you were doing.
It was only when we found the diary that we knew your reasons.
But they're all that remain now you're gone.