The White Death

My head, it hurts,

my nose, it burns,

but I know it will all go away,

I start to float up,

I start to see black,

and I know that I am free.


I don't have to worry,

I dont have to fear,

I don't have to do nothing but sleep,

I feel amazing.


I know that its wrong, 

but I can't help myself,

I know that I have an addiction,

but what else are you going to do,

when your life is out of control.


I don't feel so good, I went to far,

The White Death grips my brain,

I'm know I'm dying as I pour out my last line,

this is my chance, I could save myself,

but I know I can never be saved,

I roll up the bill and lean over the line,

soon my body will be still.



This poem is about: 
Our world


Glena Waterhouse

Another great job! This one seems to be about suicide as well as out world.

You continue to thrive this quarter!

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