Cuts on my wrist for everytime I felt pain,
I was suicidal.
They said I overdosed they thought I was on drugs, but I was suicidal.
Mixing chemicals that I knew would kill me, but I didn't care I was suicidal.
All the times I could've been wishing this was the end, but I was still alive I was suicidal.
Now I think if I kill myself I'll go to hell and on top of that somebody gone miss me, but I was suicidal.
When you look in the eyes of a child that's suicidal you feel sorry, but don't feel sorry for I know I ain't perfect.
They told me I won't make it if I keep doing this to myself, but I didn't care I was suicidal.

This poem is about: 
My family
My community
My country
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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