I'm a child still,
on the inside.
Grew up too fast
and now I don't know
how it felt to be young,
free, it's
unfair.
Fair?
Fair isn't a word
where I come from.
So maybe I sacrificed my childhood,
but I have my friends still,
right? They're...
over there, and there,
they like
me, I swear it on
my life. Where are they now,
when I can't stand life,
when I want to die,
where did they go?
Maybe
they don't like me-
maybe they hate me, don't care.
I did swear
on my life
they liked me,
so now I have a valid
reason to die.
I would say
goodbye,
but who would
listen to the
cries
of a
dead
child.
Why did I do this? It was just a poem that I had to write for a project at school but then it ended up being basically about a smol green bean committing suicide and I need to stop and get some help. It's not specific because it was a school project not just for fanfiction but you know I can't resist posting.