A/N-Tw: This story contains some content of a sensitive nature. This is purely a work of fiction and anyone who has suicidal thoughts that reads this poem is reminded that they are loved and needed.
Roses are red,
Violets are blue.
You didn't love me,
But I loved you.
Roses are red ,
Violets are blue.
Just like the tears
That I cried for you.
Roses are red ,
My future is grey.
Because who can think straight
When your face clouds their brain.
All I see when I dream,
Is us kissing in the rain.
And I do not know
How to deal with the pain.
Roses are red,
So are the slits
From the crook of my elbows,
To the bend in my wrists.
