suicide

His shaking hands are searching
Fingertips caring the familiar wall
With a sigh he grabs something
So valuable and small

The water won’t stop streaming
Little drops will find their way
The boy absent dreaming
Praying his last prayer

On the floor he kneels terrified
Trembling in his unspoken fears
Thinking about times he lied
the horrible sinful years

His black hair contrast his pale face
While he is fighting his last fight
Lips forming words to ask God’s grace
the boy will die tonight