I've lived the poor life as long as I can,
Theres no one around to lend a helping hand.
I cry all alone for my meaning in life,
I can't seem to find it, so i pick up the knife.
Hoping that maybe theres another way out,
to make the pain end, thats what its about.
Trying to think of some one to call,
but nobodies there to help break my fall,
I hear all the demons calling my name,
for all that I've felt, its you that I
blame.
This poem was written by a girl named Maci. Its not mine but please rate it anyway for her.
