Little Sarah, you're a diamond in the rough, and I know that you don't hear this all enough.

And I'm sure that's why your wrists have tons of cuts, and I'm sure that's why you think

you're not enough.

On your 19th birthday, you thought that you were done.

Tons of people in your home, but it only felt like one, because your brain can only think

about the waiting loaded gun, but your friends are all still here, so you pretend you're

having fun.

All your friends, they want to drink because it's your birthday, but you've been drinking

straight poppy since last Thursday.

Drinking is the only thing that makes you feel just okay.

It keeps the trigger finger off the trigger and the bait.

Your mind can only think about the things it shouldn't.

Your brain is filled with lots of wishing that you didn't.

Little Sarah, perk your ears or try to listen, but she can't ever sound because she's locked

in a prison.

She can barely see the pavement.

She can barely read the signs.

People think she's complicated, but never want to look inside, because she's a little too

worried, and that really knocks you down blind.

She's just looking for angels, but they're a little hard to find.

Little Sarah, you've been skipping out on class, and any minute now your friends are

gonna ask, why the hell you're always acting sort of sad?

Why the hell your we just never seems to last?

But the truth is you don't want to let your secret out, because they think it's wrong

for you to take a different route.

I'll accept you're mom.

Too bad that she's just not around, and don't get me wrong, those words you've tried to

get them out, but their view has been skewed from their plastic news, from their plasma

too, so they won't fit in your shoes, except for Sunday blues, but you got Monday blues,

you got Tuesday blues, damn every day you might lose, all your friends they wanna smoke

cause it's a Friday, but you've been smoking straight probably since last Sunday, I know

you know you shouldn't say that you are okay, but still you look them in the eye and lie,

then go to use your ashtray.

She can barely see the pavement.

She can barely read the signs.

People think she's complicated, but never want to look inside, because she's a little

too orated, and they're a little too damn blind, she's just looking for her angels,

but they're a little hard to find.

Little Sarah, last night you got it bad, in that moment you could barely even act,

two or three reasons why you're glad, and I guess that's why you grabbed your pen and

pad, it was 614, and you could barely even read, all the words you'd written down while

it was time for you to leave, your phone was on the ground and you could barely hear it

ring, couldn't even hear a sound, couldn't feel a single thing, now it's 615, and you're

on your knees, blood is on your sleeves, and your lungs won't breathe, there's a watery

body shivering, and you're wondering what is happening, now it's 623, and they're on

their knees, begging Jesus please can you make her breathe, cause they finally see what

is happening, underneath their nose and underneath your sleeves.

She can barely see the pavement, she can barely read the signs, people think she's complicated,

but never wanna look inside, cause she's a little too orated, and they're a little too

blind, she's just looking for angels, but they're a little hard to find.