Rachelle

Gone

Copyright, Rachelle

I don’t want your sympathy
I don’t care how much you bitch at me.
My pool of uncertantiy
seems to go on for an eternity
all the dark clouds overhead
makes me remember the awful things you said.
Suicide, such a sterotypical word…
but the real truth is kept untold.
someone please help me, i’m begging you
then again..your not special, what good could you do?
I’m growing cold, starring down the barell of that shiney new gun,
and i’m washed up, used, and done.

Sidebar

Share Your Poetry

See the Contributing Content guide for information on how to add your poetry to the site.