Death
Take a knife
Hold it to your wrist
Threaten to cut
It’ll make them pissed.
Take a gun
Hold it to your head
Tell them soon that you’ll be dead
Take a rope
Tie it round your neck
Tell your self you’ll soon forget
Take a match
Light up your bed
Crawl right in
It’ll fill them with dread
Jump into a lake
Dive right down
Hold into something
Make your self drown
Smoke some drugs
Make your self ill
And if that doesn’t work
Take a pill
On your grave
They will cry
Wondering why you had to die
But they never looked
Never cared
Never saw that you were there
So why should you stay alive in vain
When you can stop the hurt and pain
It’s over now
You’re in the ground
Never to make a move or sound
You’ll never talk
Never speak
Never fight
You were too weak
This is how most lives end
Never taking the time to mend
But this life was more then what it seemed
This was the life
Of an unloved teen.
Copyright © Christine Portwood | Year Posted 2008
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