*Mother walks into her sons room to find her sons journal on his bed*
Dear Journal.
I know that I’m loved…and that many people care
Fully aware, that they hide it and it isn’t fair
Why cant people share? what they have in life
I ask my self every night...will i have kids or a wife?
Where do I go from here? Without shedding a tear
I know there’s no reason to live I can see it clear
What’s left to hear? I’ve heard all that can be said
Have got no where alive maybe I’ll get some where dead
But what if instead…I try to turn things around
Would it be good? or would I just end up hitting flat ground
Without a sound…I’m going to try to fix this bullshit
But as I stroke my silver friend I think lovely isn’t it?
How could something so beautiful take something so ugly?
See mom now you feel like shit, you could have just hugged me
But what ever journal thanks you helped me out the most
I was never anything to life but a guest…well time to meet the host
Signed...Kyle.
Title...My Last Letter.
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