Suicide. Poem by Kayla Bryant

Sliced up arms drip blood down the page,
as she writes her last words and all she has to say.
'Im sick of living, life is no good to me,
feeling empty and broken, I just wanna be free'
Wraps bandages to hide the scars,
grabs her note with eyes full of pain.
Doesn't wanna put her family through hell,
but if she stays it will all be the same.
Walks through the door, in the dresser drawer
Thinking about all her worthless strife,
looking back on freedom days when relief didn't involve a knife.
Puts the gun to her head, finger on the trigger, about to pull
but drops it crying. She collapses on the floor stays there laying,
there's alot more to life than dying.

One more bottle of pills than the day before,
getting high on drugs behind a locked door.
Hidden scars bring out his past,
abused by his father who eventually passed.
Why me, he asks, what have I done to deserve?
I've been through every bump and swerve,
of life well I'm done it's the end of the street.
I'll get there and I'll meet...suicide.

One more day, so many tears.
Holding it back, faking a smile through all these years.
No more pain, letting go, anyone who feels this way you gotta know..

Suicide, and easy getaway. I'd call it giving up, when you have no other way.
God is calling, you have a reason to live.
Get your finger off the trigger, you've got so much more to give, oh suicide.