Oh Lord,
I believe you have not thought through,
This "gift" you give to me.
In reality I do not want it anymore...
No matter what I do with it the outcome is the same...
Death
I'll end up buried 6ft underground,
In a casket made of the sorrows of those who loved me,
Loved me, even though they knew what would happen...

So Lord,
I do not want this gift of Life.
Because with it I can do nothing...
Take my life and give it to someone better...
That way I can be 6ft under the ground in *peace...

16 year old on suicide watch prayer

If you see me and hear me,
If you love me,
Like they say you do
Then take these thoughts and bury them
For me.
Heal these wrists.
Let me know you hear
The thoughts inside.
Let the glass shard
Shatter,
Before it presses down.

It started when i was 12. the nights seemed shorter. the days were long. the school bells ring. all my wrongs seemed right. all my rights seemed wrong.
It started with weird. and escalate quickly. The tears started to come. and i believed it was fate. I was insecure. But they said they only saw beauty. to as far as the eye can see. but yet... they took my dignity. They took my self love. and locked it away. thats when it all started. i wasnt me.
i know im not the only kid who feels like this. Everyone has their bully. everyone feels low sometimes. But with the words the throw. sometime hits us and sometimes will miss.
She got laughed at for her wheight.
She soon thought eating was a mistake. People teased her for not eating. She sat alone in the empty seating. She thought she was alone.
Then there was boy. who stood alone. no one by his side. He thought about all the times he cried. His mother never wanted him. his dad soon left. He was put onto a different family tree.  No in his life stayed.  
Time flew into eighth grade. the names the call him never went away. They kept laughing and laughing and he did fade. He talked therapist; that made him strange. He got depression pills. And got wrapped in a tidal wave of a full suicidal. and then he got called popper.
Us kids were so different the built us our own jail. so hail mary full of grace. where were you when i needed you. But i dont go to bed. its all in my head. they say. instead of helping. they hurt. and in all this jail. we still have secrets. these walls are the only things that see us at at our weekest.
Then we think like this. we think we are nothing and that no one will ever love us cause we are freaks. we must try. We try to build the sun for that one person. but they reject us. We see only wrong, cause we will always be wrong in someones eyes
But when you hear these names you must stop hearing. turn off all the sound. and be alone. Remember its all lies. Youre eyes will be tearing you will feel space bound. and feel a lone.
And when they break youre heart. you must wrap in a cast. take a pen. sign it. sign it. saying they are wrong. They have to be wrong. cause they live in the past. focus on what youve done. They lie to youre face. when they call you a name. tell them they lie. at least try. cause the first in hating something, means you once loved them. you once saw the beauty. then theyd throw you away. But how can they hate someone. when all there is, is beauty.
To this day, kids are still being called names and i dont think it will ever stop. there will always be blame. there will always be harm. but youre always going to be able, to see the beauty.

Weighing the strength of my hand down to a milligram.
Treat beef like green eggs and ham.
Million dollar man with a back up plan.
Standing ground, wherever I land.
Lady luck, playing my hand.
Over look, what they can't understand.
Too busy being a *****; I'm busy being the man.

Trying to get published is a ******* joke.
My hands are tired of holding my face together,
eyes open at the bottom.
Hydrated by tiny sighs of disappointment
passing through my fingers.
I'm tired.
They seek the ******* about flowers
and the quietness of a lake,
and all I have to offer is
the hopelessness that ensues
most of these messes,
and the reality that this **** exists.
They want the "solitude of a haiku" in every piece.
Well, I have some groundbreaking news *******,
if humans were so content with everything
we wouldn't have or need any **** writers.
This is poetry too,
and if you think otherwise
your definition must be
shallow, jaded, and/or
[most importantly]
incredibly boring.