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Jordan 6d
He lay staring up at the stars
The dewy Grass beneath his black coat.
Pulling up his sleeves, he reveals the scars.
Wondering if there should be another on his throat.
He thinks back to a time when we called the moon ours.
On his skin, he wrote
The name on his tongue sours
His heart raced as he wondered when they last spoke
He thinks back to all the fowers
That went up in smoke.
Now the thought makes him remember the arguments when they spoke.
His pillow still harnesses the midnight showers
He now lay to stare at the moon for hours.
Jordan 6d
She stares into the shards lying upon the floor,

Blood slowly drips from the cuts on her hands.

Then comes a knock at the door,

Unmoving, she watches the blood leave her body and only then she understands.

She knows the happiness death can bring, soon she will not feel any more.

Her mom opens the door,

She finds her precious daughter on the floor,

******, with a broken mirror and a **** across her throat,

With no trace of sorrow or pain, her mom thought "could there have been an antidote?"

Tears continue to poor

More and more.

She lay, limp within her mother's arms

Unmoving, she slowly fades from the warmth of life,

She hears ringing as if there were alarms,

Her mother gets up and leaves, returning with a knife

She lay, her daughter wrapped in caring arms,

She cries just before taking her own life.
Jordan 6d
'Drip'                            
                                   'Drip'
                                                          ­                                   'Drip'
                                                   'Drip'

The beautiful sound of rain
Engulfing my brain.
Thinking of the rain,
Causes nothing but pain.
He was everything but love was slain.
The rain
Like a hurricane
Leaving destruction and pain.
The rain
Is why I am insane.


               'Drip'
                                                          ­                      'Drip'
                                   'Drip'
                                                          ­                                              'Drip'
Jordan May 9
"I must go tend to the roses," he said

but when they found him he was already dead.

The beautiful white roses now stained red,

they panic at the sight of their brother laying, yet not a single tear is shed.

The family knew it was all in his head,

the depression and voices are the reason he is now dead.

They stand, looking at the cut upon his wrists with every word unsaid,

unlike most families, there were no tears, but smiles instead.

Knowing that he had finally escaped the voices in his head.

— The End —