with this knife i hold to my wrist,
i take my life, the best of it,
i tilt my head and look around,
and continue to push it down,
as the blood pours from my wrist,
i think of why i was even pissed,
no phone for a week, the Tv’s broke,
and that is why i choose to choke.
i feel eyes upon my face,
and where my death will take place.
is it worth it? if its not,
my final words were on that spot.
“tell my friends what i’ve went through
isnt worth hurting you”
i meant to love them,
i meant to care,
now still wishing i wasnt there,
say my goodbyes
as the tears are rolling from my eyes.
and my wish when i am through
is finding friends as great as you.