Poems for the hurt.

A poem for the hurt.

Words hurt.

Words are pain.

Words are like poison, in your veins.

Nobody cares about what you say.

But that's the price you have to pay.

When your hated, your world falls down.

And you lie silent, on the ground.

You say you hate your life.

So, you grab a knife.

You forget about who you want to be.

So you say," My life is History."

You stab your chest.

And hope for death.

You become unconscious.

Forget responses.

You realize it was a dream.

And open your eyes sadly.

You sigh and say,"

Not another day."

You hope and pray.

It goes OK.

The day goes by.

And your alright.

Hopefully, you can see, if you die, you leave people in misery.

It's alright.

It's OK.

Cause guess what?

You made it through another day!