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Sitting here
with a knife in hand
thinking of how things are.
I remember you
and how you died.
I wonder how someone
could kill such a nice guy.
I run through my head
what we did,
even though we were young.
I still think its my fault
your dead and
if I could go back in time
you would still be here,
by my side.
I want to be with you so bad
I hold the knife to my wrist
and gouge it in.
I hope that I will be with
you again.
© Copyright 2007 uniek_366 (UN: uniek_366 at Writing.Com).
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