Can i die yet?
Can i slit my wrists,
And drench my fists,
In the cold blood,
Draining like a flood,
Coming from my soul,
Can i score my goal?
I need to see a physc and quick,
Or i will die while acting a prick,
I need help and i want it,
But no-one seems to give it,
I guess i'm scared of the outcome,
I guess i am scared of the gun,
I would hate my family to know,
Unless i know i want to go.
All (c)Copyrights reserved by the Original Author.
Author's footnotes and comments on this Poem:
Does anyone know a good pyschiatrist in the cambridge area?
