Screaming inside, no one can hear it,

I know when I die, I'll be a sad spirit.

Concealed with pain, I lock myself in,

whilst in the darkness I wonder,"is it a sin?"

The only friends I have, they say that it's stupid,

yet, behind their backs, I cry, I am wounded.

At first a dream, now suddenly real,

in summers I have to wait for my arms to heal.

Blood is spilt tears are shed,

Just a few inches lower and 

                                                                        I

 

                                                                                     will

 

                                                                                                     be

               

                                                                                                                              dead...