Suicide Songs: Sunday

Suzzie's still dressed up in what passed as her Sunday best

Studying for tomorrow's math test

It's a lot of pressure when you're suppose to be a prodigy

When you're expected to make your mark in history 

When your expectations can't possibly result in reality

Except their not your expectations

Your work and success don't bring you feelings of elation 

Quite contrary your dreams are being suffocated 

You're in your home, your room but you still feel dislocated 

Like nothing's real

You don't know what to feel

You don't have the best dress 

But score the highest on every test

But that's not you or who you want to be 

But somehow no one else notices or sees

Your parents are so proud 

Your friends cheer so loud

But you can't get anything less than an A

You have to study so there's no time to play

It's all too much you're going to snap

The empty pill bottles fall on your lap

She didn't know her parents would still love her if she dropped out of school

That her friends didn't care if what she wore wasn’t so cool