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When I die I want go to hell,

I'm a pice of shit.

It aint hard to tell. It dont make sence going to heaven with goody goodys,

dressed in white.

I like black boots, and black hoodies.



Hanging with the goody goodys Lounging in paradice, screw that,

I wanna tote guns and shoot dice.

All my life I've been considered as the worst,

lieing to my mother, even stealing out of her purse.



Crime after crime, from drugs to extortion,

I know my mom wish she had a fukn abortion.

She don't even luv me like she did when I was younger,

sucking on her cheast just to stop my hunger.



I wonder if I died, would tears come to her eyes,

forgive me for my dis-respect,

forgive me for my lies.



I swear to god I just want to slit my wrists,

and end this bull shit, I hold a gun to my head,

threat'n to pull this shit, and squeeze,

till the beds, compleatly red.



I'm glad I'm dead, I'm a worthless pot-head.

My stress is building up, I cant belive suicide is

on my mind, i want to leave, I swear to god death is calling me.

But no, you would'nt under stand.



I've reached my peak, I cant speak, my will is weak.

I'm sick of people's lie-ing, I'm sick of walking,

as a matter of fact, I'm sick of talking .............................................





This poem was inspired by a song I heard once. It is unbeliveably simular to how I grew up as a kid and as a teen.