Alone. Lost. Dead.

I can see right through your eyes,
and all the times you've cried.
Laying alone at night, 
fighting your way through life.
Alone. Lost. Dead.

All their words finally got to your head.
You're so beautiful, so pretty, so nice. 
You don't deserve this cruel life. 

You sit in your room for the last time.
The pills, the note, the blade. 
It's these three things that take away pain.

They relieve the pain
That is not for you to blame. 
It's those girls and those boys,
Who treat you like a toy.

You take the pills one by one. 
But it's not long till you reach the end,
And so you lay in bed.

You think, "Is my letter going to be read?"
You close your eyes, making you way to the skies.

Your parents come in. 
They scream, and they cry. 
They never wanted you to die. 
They truely did love you, 
Even if it may sound to good to be true. 

Poetry Slam: 
Guide that inspired this poem: 



Beautifully painful.


Thank you for actually taking the time to read it. I appreciate it. (:

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