In first grade I cried
To my mum about how
Nasty boys are because
Of their cooties.
In third grade
I had my first crush
On a boy named Maverick.
In fifth grade I laughed
At the boy who called me
His wife, and received
My best friend.
In seventh grade I fell for
The quarterback,
I'd do anything to get him.
In eighth grade I lost
My virginity to him for love,
Only to receive the words slut.
In eleventh grade I was
Diagnosed depressed and suicidal
After I almost died of slit wrist.
In twelfth grade I pulled
The trigger to a Smith and Wesson
38 Revolver.
The boy she loved came to
The funeral and cried,
For he had been the reason.
He never loved her, he knew that,
But this was too far.
In the back row sobbing,
Was the girl's best friend.
He blamed himself
For the death of his
Love.
K.M.A