** This poem is dedicated to my mother. NO I did not cut myself in the making of this poem, (or ever, on purpose, for that matter). Either way it's a rough relationship that you'll be happy to know, (or not, I don't care) is trying to be patched up and worked on, (sorta). This poem is dated January 6, 2005. So, I was 11 years old when I wrote this. Try to keep your harsh judging to a minimum, (I was 11) but feel free to drop a review and let me know what you think. :) ~Charly


Will you help me?

My footsteps are getting heavy and my eyes are falling asleep.

I drop the knife that's in my hand,

A puddle of blood is all that's near.

I call out your name and fall to the ground,

But you never seem to hear a sound.

I'm full of pain,

Both mentally and physically

And my time is up,

But you never stop to care.

I'm dying here on the floor,

All alone.

Why can't you see?

That all I've ever wanted was for you to see me,

To love me, to care for me.

I start to drift off,

And I yell out your name once again,

But you never come.

All I can think is, how could you?

I thought you loved me, thought you cared...

My body is drenched in my own red blood

And my heart is slowing its precious beat.

Only seconds now.

"I love you" is all I can think.

You left me to go insane in my own open-mind,

In my own young world.

Now cold and shaking and reaching for something to hold onto,

I whisper "goodbye" to the world I had once new

And once came to love.

My cuts will never heal; my life will be no more.

I am dying alone in my room.

But I stay strong.

You'll be sorry now, for I am leaving

But remember this.

No matter how cold you were to me, you are my mother

And I will always love you.