I am sitting here in my room
trying not to cry.
I seem to be thinking about the same things over and over again.
Of wanting to die.
I thought this for a long time
years and years on end
years of therapy and drugs,
that never seem to help
mom though i was getting better
oh how could she be more wrong
i was only getting worse by the day
i got so bad that at one point i was even a cutter.
Oh,how it felt so good it seemed to make my troubles go away, for a little while at least.
The endless hours i spent in my room all alone everybody asking if i am OK,
lying to them only to convince myself that i was.
If only i had the courage to touch a knife again,
I can make it all go away
But that will be to slow i want something nice and fast
my Dad had gun's lots of them
that might just work
i went downstairs grabbed a gun
i told dad that i was going outside to shoot at some cans.
i told him that i loved him, and gave him a kiss on the cheek as i walked away i went out to the field near by.shot two or three cans.
then i did it i said good bye and pulled the trigger.
I lay there motionless no more pain and sorrow.
As my soul left my body I couldn't help but think, It was the best thing i ever did for myself.
