Our Letters

5- The Boy Who Hurts

The girl who's sorry,

Thank you for the poem. But I am sorry. I won't know you for much longer. They hurt me again. It hurts. My body is sore. I cry. My wrists are red. One took me yesterday. It hurt. I cried. It was agonising.

I wanted to die.

I want to die.

I should die.

Then it won't hurt.

Those cruel men.

Dark men.

Horrid men.

The boy who hurts.