• I sit in my dark room,
    with a peice of steal;
    a razor.
    Every time I hear my dad
    the sharp, cold, razors edge
    is starting to look friendly.
    He yells at me to ge the ******** out.
    He hits me over and over.
    He grabs a bottle of Jack
    and passes out.
    My mom sits and says nothing.
    I walk to my room,
    grab my razor and
    start cutting. The
    bleeding wasn't enough.
    I slip my hand under
    my pillow, find my gun and put
    it to my chest.
    The last thing i hear,
    is my mothers scream.