

A poemHere I am with a gun looking overwhat I have done As I sit here and cry I have to ask myself why? Why am I still here Why do I still live in fear? When the question is why Why do I want to die? I am so confused with life So should I get the knife and take it to my wrisits and let you know that life left me like this I am now cold and dead for there is blood dripping from my head Now look at the blood dripping from my wrists Look how life left me like this...A poem
Liza
Ugly
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I put the "afro" in Aphrodisiac
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