Just Another One For The List.

Everything is black
My clothes, my room
My heart.
There is no going back
It’s all over soon
It’s fallen apart.

Everything is dying
My body, my mind
My soul.
I keep on crying
Wanting to find
Some control.

Everything is lost
My purpose, my hope
My life.
What will it cost
To be able to cope
Without my knife?

Everything is burnt
My future, my present state
My past.
I walk as if I’ve learnt
Nothing, except how to hate
And make it last.

Everything is dead
My home, my love
My body.
A bullet in my head
And I’m watching from above
Nobody cries for me.

Everything in my life
My errors, my trials
My tears.
There was nothing but my knife
No point in my smiles
I was always meant to die at 17 years.

And it was always meant to be
That nobody would cry
Though I cried because of them,
They don’t cry because of me.

© Copyright Sharon Ardern 2005