I am the boy,
critsised...
seperate...
put the gun to my head,
take me outof my misery,
take the blade to my wrist,
make the pain stop.
I am the boy,
used....
forgotten....
pull the trigger,
let the blood run...
Note: i ask my freind to write this poem for me, because of my problems,when i tried to kill my self but couldnt do it, when i tried to cut, Thanks Rachel thanks for careing
God_Of_Murder_Khaine Community Member 
|
|
