Sad Poems

What have I done?

Why should I care, or want to live?

There's nothing more for me to give.

I'm only bringing others pain,

And to myself I do the same.

There's no excuse or reason why,

I should not end it all and die.

Something sharp. A little slit.

And that would be the end of it.

The blood is trickling, pouring through,

And all my troubles leave me too.

Form a pool upon the floor,

Not inside me anymore.

And then I see my mother's face,

The tears that seem so out of place.

Why does she look so awfully sad?

What have I done that is so bad?

The blood is mixing with the tears,

Revealing all my deepest fears.

And with the setting of the sun,

I think, too late: What have I done?

~Anonymous-