David

Hurt by their words their glares and their fists He picks up the knife brings it down on his wrists the last thing he sees dripping blood hot and red the flashing of lights uniformed men surrounding his bed They come out and watch repent what was done but foresight is blind they realize that now its too late, now he's gone leaving in his wake a mother and father holding their hearts so suddenly fragile so easy to break an empty chair in a dark cold room where once sat a boy who was more of a girl with dark, golden hair gray eyes sparkling like pearls he died in the summer for love of a boy alone in a world he never could change alone in a world that only called pain he slashed at his wrists each doing their part and that boy, without knowing he slashed at my heart