Grabbing the knife.
She bleeds just to,
Know shes alive.
How sad that she,
Must have to die.
Because people left
Scars on her fragile,
Gentle heart. How
Sad. The world turned
A blind eye to her.
Her tears are now
A thing of the past.
She is mourned yet,
Another lost young soul.

He takes the beatings.
Puts on that fake smile.
He laughs along with
Their cruel jokes pretending.
It doesn't hurt.
Did they know he had
A gun?
When he brings it
To school their the
Ones crying.
He makes sure they
See it in his hands.
The power he know holds.
He doesn't take a soul.
Except for his own.

Faceless abandoned.
These people felt,
All alone it was
Another's fault.
Why do we hurt each other?
Their silent tears
Were never heard.
They now wear their
Hearts on their sleeves.
But no one will see.
As they now lay resting
Asleep back in the earth.
Their lives cut short.
Why do we do this.

I have this pen it
Wont draw my blood.
It isn't sharp enough.
Yet sometimes I wonder.
I stray down that
Path, if it could all
Be easier. There must,
Be a way. Though I pray
To keep my sanity.
I wont end up that way.
Instead I will tell their stories.
So they wont die in vain.
Maybe prevent other
Future pains.
I will save another.
I wont let it end the same.
I will write away,
And become their light.
Because in the end.
Theres always someone.
Who never wants you gone.