Walking away along a dark lonely street,
Knowing that leaving home, there cant be any retreat.
A place called home; was left called hell,
At the end of this street, lets hope there is a suicide well.
To jump in and bury myself alongside the grief,
For that is positive salvation, and for the heart good relief.
Never crying, but this time the few tears do leak,
Im not sure, a well, or maybe found in my own blood in the nearby creek.
