Take my hand.
We are only as good as the hands we're dealt.
I was there to lift you up.
When I met you I was young,
but you were younger.
I was a senior,
You were a freshmen.
You said the boys only wanted to get in your pants
and I said "Don't let them.
You're far to young for that crap."
You said you think you found a new one.
And I pitied you.
Pretty girl, No boy will love you, not yet.
Many will lust after you and all will reach out,
but be patient.
You said this boy was better.
I said "Be careful, boys are smart."
You said he was sweet.
A week later you were crying.
You said he fucked you and left and you didn't understand.
I reached out my hand.
You never took it.
I heard about your suicide a year later.
We are only as good as the hands we are dealt.
Some of us are dealt with winning hands,
But some of the cards we are dealt are razor blades.
And we play them on our turn.