3rd Annual Poems About Suicide Month

[Leanne]

Too young, too innocent
Too eager
Words that meant nothing
And became everything
Too late

Wanting to own the world
Yet being sold
A piece of soiled carpet
From the floor of a global
Mystery

The call grows louder
The tide grows stronger
The heart grows weaker
The hand grows firmer
The hide grows tougher

Now nothing penetrates
Now nothing
Is all


*I left the initial caps in for ~emphasis~