A blade, gripped tight.
A rope, tied right.
A gun, sitting waiting.
A pill, in hand.
So many children,
So many wishes of death,
So many ways to go.
Which will you take?
The blade, the rope, the gun, or the pill.
YOU ARE READING
My Poems
Poetryhey whats up? this is a book of all the crappy poems i write. WARNING!! IF YOU DO NOT LIKE DEPRESSED POEMS, DO NOT, I REPEAT, DO NOT READ THIS! also no mean criticizing. i know my spelling and grammar are terrible. if you want to give constructive...
