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Little Sara, 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 wrist have tons of cuts
And I’m sure that’s why you think you’re not enough
Peter Parker could never let anyone know what it feels like to be him. His aunt didn’t work endless hours for him to tell her he didn’t even want the food she was buying. Pepper didn’t let Tony basically adopt him for him to give up. Tony didn’t waste his time dealing with a superpowered teenager just for him to stop showing up. Ned and MJ didn’t help him with late homework and college applications for him to die before graduating high school.
The cuts were just one way of handling the massive failure he had become.
On your nineteenth birthday you thought that you were done
Tons of people in your home, but it only felt like one
“You only turn 17 once in your life”, Tony had stated. Peter wanted to fight, ignore, lash out. But he had to agree. Had to keep this facade that he was normal and okay.
“Sure, Mr. Stark. Whatever you want.”
‘Cause your brain can only think about the waiting loaded gun
But your friends are all still here, so pretend you’re having fun
Smile. Laugh. Smile. Laugh. Smile.
All your friends they wanna drink ‘cause it’s your birthday
But you’ve been drinking straight probably since last Thursday
Drinking is the only thing that makes you feel just okay
That night, Peter laid in bed with three bottles of hard liquor. His goddamn spider-metabolism never let him feel the high of the alcohol for longer than ten minutes, but he was desperate. Drink. Cut. Smoke. Repeat.
It keeps the trigger finger off the trigger and at bay
Your mind can only think about the things it shouldn't
Your brain is filled with thoughts of wishing that ya didn't
Drink. Cut. Smoke. Repeat. Drink. Cut. Smoke. Repeat. Drink. Cut. Smoke. Repeat. Whatever he needed to do in order to keep his thoughts from overpowering his brain.
Little Sarah, perk your ears up try to listen
But she can't hear a sound because she's locked in a prison
No one would ever care about Peter Parker. A truth. A lie. Ned. MJ. May. Mr. Stark. Pepper. Ben. Richard. Mary. No one would ever care about Peter Parker. A truth.
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 R-rated and they're a little too damn blind
She's just looking for her angels, but they're a little hard to find
Dark bags under his eyes. Ribs poking out of skin. Long sleeved shirts in hot weather. Never wear shorts. Sitting on the rooftop. Disabling Karen. Are you okay? Always say yes.
Little Sara, you've been skipping out in class
And any minute now your friends are gonna ask
Why the hell you're always acting sorta sad
Why the hell your weed just never seems to last
Hey loser, I’m worried about you. Ned and I have your homework. Please text me back.
Hey Spider-Man! I miss ya-lmk when we can have Star Wars night.
But the truth is you don't wanna let your secret out
'Cause they think it's wrong for you to take a different route
Peter had applied to 0 colleges. How is he going to juggle Spider-Man, a job, and school? May would be disappointed. Mr. Stark would be disappointed. Ten more cuts littering his wrist. Disappointment. Disappointment. Disappointment.
All except your mom too bad that she's just not around
Everyone he loves dies.
And don't get me wrong those words you've tried to get them out
But their views been skewed by their plastic news from their plasma tubes
So they won't fit in your shoes
One day, Mr. Stark asked if he was okay. Said he seemed tired. Ijustcantstopineedhelpineed… “Of course Mr. Stark, just a long day” was his response instead. Blood and bottles. Bottles and blood. Pills. Roofs. Blood.
Except for Sunday blues, but you got Monday blues
You got Tuesday blues, damn every day ya might lose
Sunday: Cut, bleed, cut, bleed.
Monday: Drink, puke, drink, drinkdrinkdrink, pass out.
Tuesday: Smoke, smoke, drink, smoke.
Wednesday: Roof, heights, what if he fell?
Thursday: Burn, blister, cut, bleed.
Friday: Pick, pick, raw skin, pick, pick, raw skin.
Saturday: Wait for the healing powers to take care of the week (seems to be taking longer and longer).
Repeat.
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 you still look 'em in the eye and lie then go to use your ashtray
Everyone knows something is wrong. Help. Yes? Help. No.
“Peter, you need to stop with the weed. I just can’t be around you when you’re like this. Maybe tonight isn’t a good time to build Legos?”
Penis Parker.
Penis. Parker. Idiot. Stupid. Selfish. Deadly. Ugly. Nerd. Loser. Loser. Loser. Evil.
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 R-rated and they're a little too damn blind
She's just looking for her angels, but they're a little hard to find
Dark bags under his eyes. Ribs poking out of skin. Long sleeved shirts in hot weather. Never wear shorts. Sitting on the rooftop. Disabling Karen. Are you okay? Always say yes.
Little Sarah, last night you got it bad
In that moment you could barely even add up two or three reasons why you're glad
You can’t save everyone. 6 years old. Dead. Bank robbery. Spider-Man wasn’t there. Worthless. Stupid. Idiot. Deadly. Evil.
And I guess that's why you grabbed your pen and pad
It was 6:14 and you could barely even read
All the words you'd written down of why it was time for you to leave
Dear Mr. Stark, I failed you.
May, live a better life. Save your money.
Ned, you’ll never have to deal with me stoned again.
MJ, I’m sorry I was a burden.
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
Incoming call from Tony… Incoming call from Tony… Incoming call from Tony…
Now, it's 6:15 and you're on your knees, blood is on your sleeves
And your lungs won't breathe, eyes are watering, body's shivering
And you're wondering what is happening
Apartment door; locked. Bedroom door; locked. Blood. Blood. Blood. Razor. Wait. Wait. Eyes closed. Eyes closed. Noise?
Now, it's 6:23, and they're on their knees, begging Jesus please
Can you make her breathe
'Cause they finally see what was happening underneath their nose
And underneath your sleeves
Tony broke down the apartment door, rushing over to Peter’s bedroom and…
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 R-rated and they're a little too damn blind
She's just looking for her angels, but they're a little hard to find
The burial was held two days later. Queens mourned the hero Spider-Man. Tony, Pepper, May, Ned, and MJ all mourned their loved one; Peter Parker.
Loved. Caring. Selfless. Nice. Intelligent. Dead.