They called her names.
The one she was born with, never.
They called after her:
"Ugly!"
And they smiled smugly.
They called after her:
"Whore!"
And they pushed her to the floor.
They called after her:
"Waste of space!"
And she fell without grace.
He wished her the best,
But instead he found her at rest.
He wished she heard what he said,
Yet he found her dead.
So he quietly whispered into her ear:
"I'll, for you, always be here."
YOU ARE READING
Book of Suicide Poems
PoetryThis is my way to say goodbye. Warning: the poems might be triggering. If you believe you cannot stand reading depression and sucide poems because you might be triggered, please, for your own good, don't.
