• The hate of a childhood,
    the pain of memories,
    that choose to stay.
    Remembering how much,
    your mom displeased you.
    The abuse,
    the threats,
    oh how much I strain,
    to think of the good times.
    Constantly asking if I can make it,
    or is suicide the only option.
    The slits on my wrist,
    that everyone laughed,
    and pointed at.
    The friends,
    who couldn't care less,
    if you were alive,
    the next day.
    Then again what friends.
    The constant,
    thought of the girl,
    whom you never had a chance with.
    The one who brought you pain and sorrow.
    The thought of death,
    occuring at all times.
    The failed suicide attempts,
    that parents could care less about.
    The constant feeling,
    of being a nobody,
    a loner,
    a person of no value to your life.
    Then I think,
    What a horrible life this has been.

    By,
    Milton Lockett TM.