June 15, 2009
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As I sit behind these three walls and one cell door
I wish I were not here anymore.
My mind is racing how many ways can I kill myself?
I can slit my wrist,
And paint with my blood until I can’t move anymore.
I wish I were not here anymore,
Or maybe bang my head on the floor
Until I split my head open,
That’s because life’s no good anymore,
I wish I were not here anymore.

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MelJoy said...
Mar. 15, 2010 at 5:49 pm
This is well written. It shows a good ammount of emotion but it makes me want to cry. I guess that's what sad poems are supposed to do... but I don't know
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