I hate this house, too many tears,
I can't wait 'till I get out of here.
I could walk away in the night,
just leave without a fight.
I've given up all my hope,
there's just no way I can cope.
I'm so sick of this life,
but I could end it all with my knife.
I doubt anyone would care,
or miss me when I'm not there.
They'd go on about their day,
with me no longer in their way.
Parents hate me, life isn't fair,
I bet everything is better 'up there'.
I'm just so sick of this life,
so I'm ending it all with my knife.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem