SUICIDLE

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  • Death

    SUICIDLE

    i ran home to cry on my bed
    not a word to you was said
    cuz you came home late at night

    you looked at me from left to right
    you saw me hanging from a rope
    you took your knife and cut me down
    on my clothes a note was found

    dig my grave
    dig it deep

    dig my grave
    from head to feet

    and on top put a dove
    and show the world i died
    for your love

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    Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

    pandy’s Poems (7)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    AFECT MY THOUGH'S 1
    LOVE IS PAIN 0
    someday 0
    FEELING & PAIN 0
    MY PAIN 0
    I NEVER 0
    SUICIDLE 1