Book of Suicide
love unto me
the old saying truth hurts does exist. and a new one to
come is truth's hard to resist. i sit here and think about
friends. none, do i have to the bitter end. it hurts to
think about such a cruel truth. i feel like a young tree
cut short at the roots. those i do not love, love unto
me. those i adore, look not upon me. those who have
accepted me, have slashed my heart to shreads. taking what
was worth a dime and left the rest to tread. but to one i
have not given my heart, rather he hath stole. i wait ere
long just to hear his silky voice whose breath is never
cold. i look at others still, but do not find delight.
but he is the focus of my sight.