To touch is the feeling you don't get after death,
No more thinking, speaking, taking one last breath.
The cuts, the thoughts, all don't matter.
When you're mother is crying, getting sadder and sadder.
Sitting beside you in the hospital, holding your hand,
Before you leave this earth, this is your last stand.
6 feet under the cold soil, no coming back,
Everything has become damp and black.
There's no second chances while you're burning in Hell,
And above, they'll have a sickening story to tell.
About a child, who was so sad that they wanted to die,
You'll make them feel guilty as they have to say why.
It's not an escape, it's too late to cope,
You can stop this though, before blinding flames you'll grope.
Before the worms decompose your lifeless body,
And before your life gets thrown away like a nobody.
Take this from experience, I'm not trying to be mean,
I just know what it's like to be a depressing teen.
Wanting to be loved and sought out,
Wanting something to talk about.
It's not worth the work, only to stop,
Not a good feeling to be the reasons hearts drop.
To be the reasons smiles fade everytime your name comes up,
The reason why you're parents will never see their baby grownup.