Wednesday, January 22, 2003

I wrote another poem here it is:

Walking around the snow covered land, I watch my friends compeat.
It feels so wrong not to be with them, and forever what I have done I wish I could delete.

The cold metal had been in my hand, I brought it across cutting my neck.
The pain was sharp, I could hardly breath, as I slid down the wall, I left a pool of red hot blood as knife slipped from my hand.

I finally realize how momma felt when she saw me on the floor.
Now she always wishes she had been there for me more.

I walked across this land before, being the protector of my friends.
As long as time God lends.