A playground of lost souls
A playground of lost souls, delicate and imperfect
A slide for the homocidal
A swing for the suicidal
A ladder for the ones without purpose
Wind blows the sweet scent of death
The cliff to the right of the playground is the only way out
Some trucks stop by not for ice cream
Trucks sell razors. Bleach. Ropes. Guns. Pills. Knifes. Cigarets. Alchahol.
All the children here are sad
The wood chips underneath the swings are soaked with tears
The slide is covered with gunshots
The ladder remains nothing
There in the corner is lily
5 years ago if you asked lily what her dream was to be she would be a model of course
Lily is 15 and weighs 70 pounds
If you asked James what his hobby is he would say playing shooting games on his tv
James is 17 and locked on the slides
For murder
If you asked Alice what she wanted to be when she was older she would say
An airplane Pilate
She is 19 and is in a tireswing for trying to fly
If you asked Brent what he wanted to be he would definitely say race car driver
Now 18 Brent would say nothing for he's dead
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