of suicide*

you have a voice
inside your head
"you are worthless"
it has said
you have a life
but sleep instead
all is black and blue and red
you have a life
your daily bread
and yet you wish
that you were dead

he/she has left you
they won't atone
it has cut you to the bone
you sit by your telephone
a prince, you sit a pauper's throne
death bewitches
the sighs make moans
you listen to the laughing crone
your grave is piled up with stones

now you truly are alone

you are young
with angst to spare
parents/ teachers in your hair
your bedroom becomes your lair
no peers or siblings haunt you there
all alone... it isn't fair
the sharp edges **** you
you're aware
but they lure due to despair

but you are not beyond repair!


i just want for you to know
your Creator loves you so
my poem's not a circus show
i have lived through some trials, woe
He's helped me when I was low

He made you... *so don't let go!