Pencil becomes a friend
And writing becomes a hobby
The floor becomes a bully
And my body becomes all heavy.
As my head rests on my
Pillow painful thoughts creep
Into my mind and I begin
To cry like a widow
I cry until I wither
Like a tree destroyed
by the weather.

I cry until I I’m
all soaked in tears
Drowning in my own fears
I just ask myself why,
No matter how hard I try
to push the thought away
I keep on wondering, why.
Loneliness visits
And that’s the introduction
Of suicidal thoughts,
This troubles me
And I begin to stress
Asking myself why death….
is stealing everyone from me.