Suicide
Once, the world had meaning.
Once, it all made sense.
Once, I could ease my pain.
Once, it was only in vain.
Twice, I tried to get through.
Twice, I cried for you.
Twice, my heart was ashamed.
Twice, I was the blame.
Three, my soul was twisted pain.
Three, I was silently going insane.
Three, did I ever really mean a thing?
Three, in the end I heard Death sing.
by Tracy Burke
Dedicated to Kyle
1977-1999
