Children come and children go,
They grow, they live, they die.
Backflip off that net of death and
Think you’ve done them right.
Until their ****** suicide
Keeps you up at night.
And when you close your eyes you see
The mess they left behind.

Not the creaking, stretching rope—
The noose that hung them tight
But the gleam of dying light
From their glassy eyes.
And if you said to me today
That you regret it all
What would you say when I, someday,
Will live, will die, will fall?

My simple answer, darling dear,
Is that you must let go.
As hard as it may be to you,
It’s what’s already known.
We get sick, we wilt, we die,
It’s all a part of life
Just don’t be that sorry thing;
That mess I left behind.