My Best Friend - Poem by Emma Hall
If I picked up this gun,
And put it to my head,
Would you know why I did it?
Would you mind that I was dead?
Would you want to know the reasons,
Why I did what I have done?
Would you find it a great pity,
I was best friends with that gun?
Would you think that I was stupid,
To attempt to take my life?
I tried once before you know,
With a very friendly knife.
But after all it’s over now,
It’s a very efficient way,
To make sure that I’d killed myself,
On this very unhappy day.
I got this gun from you, you know,
From underneath your bed,
Does that make you a murderer?
My big Brother made me dead?
Comments about My Best Friend by Emma Hall
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You