She asked why the world was so wild,
We said go to sleep sweet child.
Maybe we should have told her young,
So she would understand that her harsh words stung.
But another young girl was then dead,
While the first slept soundly in her bed.
When she finally did understand,
Nobody wanted to hold her hand.
They said hurtful words back,
"Killer, murderer!" was their ruthless attack.
The girl felt that she deserved each name,
After all, she was to blame.
She came up with an idea that chilled,
She would join the girl she killed.
And so the cycle went on, so wrong,
An endless, deafening, hurtful song.
YOU ARE READING
Almost a poet
PoésieI'm trying my luck at poetry so it'd be great to get some feedback. Keep in mind that these poems are strongly related to depression, anorexia, and things of that sort. If you are recovering, this story is not recommended for you.
