As I sit here on my bed, i wanna take a gun and put it 2 my head. i dont like the way my family treats me, i want them to let me go and just be free.
My life is so miserable and i hate my school, i just wanna go drown myself in a bloody pool. my parents want me to be perfect, but thats one thing i wont accept.
I like writing death poems to express how i feel, they are so good it all seems so real. My parents think i;m crazy cause my poems about death, but they should be happy I'm not on drugs like Meth.
They don't like the people that i hang around, but they have talked so much shit that when they talk there is no sound. my friends are the ones that help me when I'm down, they are the ones to get rid of my frowns.
My friends are the ones who take my knife away, so maybe i can live in hell just one more day. My parents need to see i am who i;m going to be, they need to let me go happy and free.
