I sit here staring into the dark lonely, sad and angry.
I look in my broken window and I see the stars.
I grab at the glass shards on the ledge.
Next, I am screaming in the confines of my prison cell in this place I call home.
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with poemhunter, Mindy, you dont have to think suicide. just write beautiful poems and we'll all read you and make you smile.
Your pen will provide you much more confort than any shard of glass. Powerful stuff for anyone, let alone 12. I hope you find what you are looking for. Your poem has given me pause, so you've impacted at least someone with your pen. Stone