Stop

My tribute to those poor boys who killed themselves

They twirled their fingers around my life

and pulled as hard as possible

I can't stand their incessant cries

that I am wrong and they are right.

This is becoming too much, and it's

not right.

Where can I turn but to the rope

who's abrasive skin tells me tales.

It isn't right but nothing is.

Where is those that say they want to help?

They aren't here now; the only time

that counts.

I close my eyes and hope that this

gets better.

Reviews

[DalainaRenee]

Very nice poem here. With passion in each line. It maks you think and feel something! Nice!

[loowzerX]

I think that this is a very emotional write and a good tribute to the boys.

[Lovely Lady]

Dark and full of emotion. thanks for the tribute. more should be spoken on this subject.... instead we tend to just set it aside and push it away like dust!

interesting.