I put this gun to my head
and pull the trigger.
The bullet sinks in,
piercing my brain.
a shower of blood,
decorates the white walls.
My body goes numb,
no longer do I feel the pain.
My mother runs in just in time,
to see my hit the floor.
She screams and cries,
calls an ambulance,
but she already knows
it is too late...
Many people come to the funeral.
they gasp as they
see my lifeless body.
people from school regret,
never getting to know me.
they shudder at the thought that,
if they had taken just a few minutes
out of their day,
to talk to that quiet girl in the back of the class,
always engrossed in her studies,
that maybe they could have changed me.
My mother breaks down
as she remembers when
i told her my troubles
and she laughed and turned away.
maybe if she had tried to help,
i would still be here to this day.
My father remembers how
he hit and raped me.
maybe if he had just loved me,
i wouldn't have felt so unwanted,
and wouldn't have hated myself to death.
everyone feels responsible
for my suicide,
but the truth is,
it is nobodies fault
but my own.
