It must be.

 

Tell me how to express myself without feeling ashamed

Tell me how to realize that it's okay to be open

That saying what you feel is not a crime

Because when I feel so low I would rather down a vicodin with vodka than tell my friends I'm lonely

Why else would I prefer to create my own pain to mask the one inside?

Why is it that I can scream but all that anyone hears is a muffled shuffle of my feet dragging on the ground?

Why is it that we are all deaf to the sound?

The sound of the suffering

The sound of the struggling

The sound of the souls who are smiling but bluffing

 

How can ten percent of teens be depressed

If you can never tell which one is on the edge of death

How do you have the gall to ignore the girl who just posted to her wall 

That she has relapsed

That she is ready to go

That she is gone

Tell me how you do that

Because what you are doing is putting in headphones when there are cries for your help

You are plugging your ears to the pleas and the tears

You are ignoring the girl who you could save

And if your mourn at her grave

Remember she was not heard. 

 

But it's time to listen