The Uncommitted Suicide of Anashera Filch Northeen

 

Blue skies after a storm blows away; blue eyes trying to keep the tears at bay. 

You’re all on your own, a burden to those around you. 

They push you down, and you can never pull yourself back up. 

You’re out of answers, another brick in the wall.

You’re hopes are set high; you’re faith is so small. 

You lock yourself off from the world so they’ll never hurt you. 

It’s too late though, now that you’re locked up, you’ll never grow. 

And so to you, this is my last goodbye.

Please know, it was always my intention to die.

Poetry Slam: 

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