At the age of 2 I wanted to be a cop,
At the age of 4 I wanted to be a rock star,
At the age of 6 I wanted to be a doctor,
At the age of 8 I wanted to be a vet,
At the age of 10 I wanted to be a writer,
At the age of 12 I wanted to be a chief,
At the age of 14 I want to die.



The thing is,
At the age 2 I wanted to be a cop,
At the age 4 I was messed with,
At the age 5 I was still messed with so I cut,
At the age 6 I was still messed with so I cut,
At the age 7 I was still messed with so I tried to overdose,
At the age 8 he got what h wanted so I tried to **** myself and it almost worked I was in the hospital for 2 weeks.
At the age 9 I still want to be dead,
At the age 10 I get forced into it again, and end up having a miscarriage,
At the age 11 I am broken from loosing a baby I carried for 5 months,
At the age 12 I tried to **** myself again,
At the age 13 I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety,
At the age 14 I am here, giving up, now had two miscarriages, and I'm broken, still cutting, wanting to overdose everyday, but now has a girl that means the world to me, She and my Nephew and baby brother is the only reason I'm still on this place you call Earth.

The pain grew and grew,
And I began to experience suicidal thoughts,
I realized that life for me,
Was at a desperate impasse,
I thought of the garage,
Of a place where I might sit in the car,
And inhale carbon monoxide,
I'd look at the rafters,
In the attic and think,
Of them as places where,
I might hang myself,
I look at sharp objects,
As being implements,
For my wrist.

I'd be lying,
If I told you,
Loosing you,
Is something,
I could,
Handle.