A sad Tale..

Maybe as a kid he was rejected, addicted and non protected,
Had a father who was always high, and a mother who just wished he'd die,
Maybe he never went a day without being made way with
Feeling astray as his mother leaves and walks away,
Wishes his father left and had an accident, wrecks his chest and gets a coma on top of it,
Maybe is his mind he ran but no pop or nan to hide with

He's alone in this cold world feels his father figure is the dark sith,
As a kid he's always mad, plotting the day when he'd hit his dad
A failure at life he had assumed, no friends or christ thoughts that he was doomed.
This kid had no chance, no mother there to build his stance,
You can see the inner death, summer day stillyou can see his Cole breath,
No one knows what's inhanced, black clothing long sleeves
Try to hide how much he bleeds,
The scars may heal but one thing never will,
This kid isn't living long ago he had been killed,
No conscious he turns to blood, feet in the dirt and his face in the mud,
Can't move or see clearly, clearly his father made him fear thee
Merely appeared he hates himself with a passion kills himself in rations
No reaction from a relative, no one wants him or at least for him to live

We're In This Together

If life were easy, it would be a playground. Life's not easy, we just have to take it one step at a time. Life throws a lot of twists and turns at us and we just have to face them no matter how unreasonable or tough. Sometimes I try to give up but I won't let myself because I know I can do something about it. Some kids commit suicide for some depressing and sad reasons. Not all bad things have to end in suicide. Things can change and get better. This is the story of "Kiley Jones".

It was like any other day first the beating and the screaming, then the crying and release. Kiley's sister was the brat, the imperfect girl, the dissapointment, so her parents thought. Everyday Kiley watched her sister be beat by their cruel parents. They loved Kiley very much but not Merissa(Kiley's sister). As if it wasn't bad enough, Merissa was already cutting herself every day after the beating. Kiley couldn't stand it. One day Kiley came home right when her mom slapped Merissa. Merissa ran off into her room. Kiley decided to follow. Kiley scooted open the door as she saw something she never wanted to see. The deepest cut Merissa had ever made up her right arm. Kiley ran to Merissa's side. "No! Kiley screamed, it doesn't have to end this way!" her scream scratching her throat. Merissa barely opened her eyes and lifted her hand, "It's what t-t-they would h-a-ave wanted." she stammered barely able to speak. Kiley looked at her sister with a wet face and dry throat, "I'm getting help." she cried "Don't bother. I'll be happier in heaven." Merissa struggled to say. Kiley rushed her to the hospital, pushing through their parents. Merissa lay in the hospital bed healthy as ever. Kiley looked at her sister with a smile, "We're in this together and I'll always protect you. We're safe now."

Last words

One day a girl, Sara, who was fifteen years old, came home from school in a very bad mood. She'd had a fight with her best friend that day and it hadn't turned out well at all.
"Sara!" her mom yelled. "What are you doing? You know to do your chores right when you get home! And you're late!"
"Coming, Mom!" Sara yelled, getting up and stomping towards the kitchen. "What?" she snapped as her mother gave her a stern look, annoyed.
"You'd better straighten up your attitude, young lady," her mom warned, "or you'll be grounded."
"Whatever." Sara began to throw around the dishes in the sink, trying to make as much noise as she possibly could. A plate cracked and cut her hand. Sara cursed.
"Sara!" her mom exclaimed. "How dare you use that language! Go to your room!"
"No!" Sara yelled, throwing down the towel she was using to wipe the blood off her hand.
"Do you want to say 'no' one more time and see what happens?" her mom asked. She looked furious.
"Sure," Sara said sarcastically. "No."
"How dare you!" Her mother slapped her.
Sara shrank back, staring incredulously at her mom. She had never hit Sara before.
"I HATE YOU!" Sara screamed before running out of the house.
"Sara, get back here!" her mom yelled, running after her.
"Leave me alone!" Sara screamed, running across the street. "I HATE YOU!" she screamed again.
She continued running until she heard the sound of screeching tires and a scream. She turned around, hoping that it wouldn't be what she thought it would be....
People were crowding around Sara's mother, who was laying in the middle of the street, looking broken, bloody.
"NOOOO!" Sara screamed, running over and pushing through everyone to kneel by her mom. "Oh no, oh no...."
Her mom wasn't moving or breathing. She was gone. Sara tipped back her head and wailed to the sky, sobbing so hard it hurt.
She couldn't believe the last words she had spoken to her mother were "I hate you".

To everyone out there who tells your parents or friends you hate them, or any other rude thing, remember it might be the last thing you ever say to them.

"how much your daddy makes an hour??"

With a timid voice and idolizing eyes, the little boy greeted his father as he returned from work, "Daddy, how much do you make an hour?"

Greatly surprised, but giving his boy a glaring look, the father said: "Look, son, not even your mother knows that. Don't bother me now, I'm tired."

"But Daddy, just tell me please!? How much do you make an hour," the boy insisted.

The father finally giving up replied: " Twenty dollars per hour."
"Okay, Daddy? Could you loan me ten dollars?" the boy asked.

Showing restlessness and positively disturbed, the father yelled:
"So that was the reason you asked how much I earn, right?? Go to sleep and don't bother me anymore!"

It was already dark and the father was meditating on what he had said and was feeling guilty. Maybe he thought, his son wanted to buy something.

Finally, trying to ease his mind, the father went to his son's room.
"Are you asleep son?" asled the father.
"No, Daddy. Why?" replied the boy partially asleep.
"Here's the money you asked for earlier," the father said.

"Thanks, Daddy!" rejoiced the son, while putting his hand under his pillow and removing some money.

"Now I have enough! Now I have twenty dollars!" the boy said to his father, who was gazing at his son, confused at what his son just said. "Daddy could you sell me one hour of your time?"