Goodbyes are always hard,
So hard to say the words.
Too bad I can't just cherp them out,
Just like a little bird.

I never thought that I'd be here,
Sitting at my desk.
Writing a letter of goodbyes,
To all whom must be left.

Then I leave it on my desk,
And climb up on the chair.
And with that rope around my neck,
I jump into the air.

With that I am gone,
Hanging from the ceiling fan.
What have I accomplished,
Why have I ran?

I unleashed a wave of pain,
On all the people that I cared for.
What on earth have I done,
I can't go back through that door.

Every night it seems,
Like I cry myself to sleep.
As though I don't belong,
I barely make a peep.

Something inside is telling me,
You should end it all.
That is when I take the rope,
And run straight down the hall.

I run right out the door,
Straight to the big oak tree.
Tie the rope, then climb to the top,
Then that is the end of me.

What was I thinking,
Last night before bed?
Doing homework and chores,
Wishing I were dead.

I thought that I could end it all,
With that scarf around my neck.
To just hang dead in my closet,
And have no more regrets.

But then my mom woke up,
And came right down the hall.
So I untied my scarf,
And I began to fall.

I said that I fell out of bed,
There were no questions asked.
I had no clue what to do,
Not knowing my next task.

My past just seems to follow me,
Everywhere I go.
It peers around every corner,
And I wish it was not so.

It is a cloud always hovering,
Right over my head.
It's like a dagger through my heart,
Making me wish I were dead.

I just can never escape the past,
Of old things said and done.
The past just seems to burn on me,
Like the star we call the sun.

The past should just be a chapter,
In the storybook of life.
One that can be lived through,
And not ended with a knife.