survivors manchester

My Poem


by Aron

That little girl who you called a slag
that little boy whos dad was sex mad
that teenager sat alone cutting his wrists
to that grown man sat on the edge of a bridge
not a tear will you let fall
you hide them discretley behind a locked door

you show your pain in ways unknown to the world
you scream inside for freedom and such
but ask yourself really do you possess that much luck

you keep tapping escape but you are still here your mind might
be twisted like a fork in the road every days a junction which way shall you go

both paths lead to the same place
one is pretty with flowers and rainbows
the other is dark and full of fallen angels

the path is your choice no one can tell you which way to go

im stuck on the wrong one
and ive lost my halo

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