er... not really a poem... but yeah.

Am I perfect yet?

Well, this is it. The final push. They said I was too weak, to soft minded to do it... so they just ignored my threats. I said I would shoot them all... I won't. Have you ever had the feeling that you need to kill someone so much, that to quell your cravings by wanting to kill yourself? I have. Every. Single. Fucking. Day. I can get rid of that craving now... so easily.
I breathe in the cold air, barely registering the shouts of protest that come from my friends fifty feet below, begging me to stop. I won't. I never will. I smile, bringing the cold metal blade to my neck. So here it is. The end has finally come. Just a single deep flick of the wrist...
The words hung over the broken body like red blood, cursing all the students to read, "Am I perfect yet?" the words of a troubled girl, in a troubled world.

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wow

..brilliant

thankyou...

I like it