That is good..Thanks for the comment..

Nick

Thanks I guess..

No problem..great job once again..you should look at my other poems..

Gd poem pls read mine n pls tell moi wot tcha fink?

All alone this little girl stood,
Alone to cry to this big open world,
Nobody cares,
Nobody wants to know what the girl does.

The sun was out,
Shinning ever so bright,
It all started,
When the moon was out.

It was a bright night,
Deserted and quite,
Everything ever so quite,
Par this only girl who cry’s every night.

The family was asleep,
The little girl awake,
Waiting for her moment,
Waiting for her time to come.

She looks across the room,
Her eyes open and thinks,
Of what she had seen,
On the side where she sat.

She stands and begins to walk,
Grab what she saw shining in the moonlight,
Silver and shinning,
Used as a weapon.

She takes the blade over to where she sat before,
Grabs paper and pen,
And begins to write a little letter,
As she pulls the blade across her wrist.

The girl lets a silent tear fall,
Pall upon paper so white,
And smudges the black writing so dark,
As a little blood drops from the blade.

She finishes the letter with a simple word,
But it seems so hard to write,
As she pulls the blade across her wrist on her last time and hopes this is it,
The simple words were: Goodbye and sorry, This needed to happen.

The mother walks in the next day,
Stopped in the doorway,
She runs in and reads the letter,
And she reads the words with tears down her face.

The little girls body cold as ice,
White like snow,
Rising into the air,
As you would never know.

With slits across her wrists,
And her life a mess,
Nobody could tried to understood,
That her life was a nightmare.

By Stacey Curtis
16/06/06