The Note

This is goodbye.


Goodbye to the changing trees,

Who always have an opinion on life.


Goodbye to the pack of wolves,

Who always try to rip me apart.


Goodbye to the sweet-smelling roses,

That stab me with their throns.


I'm not sorry,

And I don't regret this.


This is my suicide note.

This poem is about: 
My community
Guide that inspired this poem: 


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