I held my blade,
Fast and steady,
I brought my hand up,
Ready for blood,
Put it on my neck,
Pressing hard,
I pulled back my arm,
Falling to the floor,
The last thing I saw,
Was my mother walk in,
My body went cold,
My blood on the floor,
I only I could,
Say something to her,
But I can no longer speak,
Because I of this peak.
*Authors Note*
If anyone has an idea for the next one please message me privately. I will dedicate the next poem to you and mention you if I decide to use your idea. Love you all!
YOU ARE READING
My Suicide
Teen FictionA series of poems about a young person trying and trying. The person who is trying is not me anymore. I'm just saying it may trigger strong emotions with suicide, cutting, self harm, self hate, and depression. Read at your own risk. Stay strong, ter...
