Spite of youth
Why do you do it-
Making people feel like shit?
Does it make you feel good?
You did everything you could
Just to get under our skin
So we’d lock ourselves in
I don’t understand-
Why you want the upper hand.
Why can’t you just leave it?
At first it’s okay,
But then after a few days
Your words start picking at my brain
Driving me insane
It makes me doubt my life
I feel only pain and strife
And I want to stop it all
So not scissors, now it’s knife
But then I stop and think “NO”
Why should I?
I don’t really want to die
Just because one slag tried to make me cry.
But how would you feel
If I’d gone and slit my wrists
And left a little note with the general gist
That it was all your fault!
I know how you’d feel
You wouldn’t give a shit
You’d just move down the line
And start doing it
To someone else who’s feeling fine
You could start a new “trend”
Seeing how many you could send
Into suicidal state-
Until, whoops – it’s too late!!!
© REBEKAH SMITH November 2002.
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