Walk up the stairs
and fall on the bed.
I can\'t believe
my best friend\'s dead.
She came to school
so perfect so fine.
Then my life changed
when we reached the lunch line.
A girl pulled out a gun
and screamed for her life.
She yelled about her pain
about all of her strife.
Then she looked at my friend
with a long last good-bye.
I wanted to stop her
a tear in my eye.
My friend ran to the girl
but she panicked and pulled.
The gun went off
she was more than fooled.
So now here I am
while people let me be.
Just because
that girl was me.
I lay on my bed
full of pain.
Because that morning
I shot my best friend.
~hey this was my very first poem so please comment it means a lot thanks~
