T'was the night before Christmas
And all through the house not a single noise could
For, you see, the only one up
Had practise of being quiet
even when she's screaming inside
With hand over mouth,
and tears streaming down her face
She silently sobbed the night away
The only festive colour running from her wrists
The only thing she wanted for Christmas
Was to be dead.
Copyright © Teenage Frustrations | Year Posted 2013
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
to post a comment