Im suicidal,
I cut my wrists,
I pop those pills,
and smoke that weed,
i dont know what else i need.
But i wanna stop
and not ruin my life,
but its impossible, its all too addicting.
smoking and drinking is great,
but its bringing me closer to death,
at least i dont do coke or meth..
im only fifteen,
and getting arrested at least once every month isnt that great,
ive been in foster homes, and juvie,
and getting a DUI without a lisense.
what the hell am i supposed to do.
for every dollar i make from selling drugs,
another guy that doesnt want only hugs.
suprisingly im still a virgin,
and i dont think thatll last long,
im suicidal,
is that so wrong?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Speaks for a lot of young persons today.