Suicide is not the cowards way out,
It’s a way some choose to escape
The harshness of their everyday fate;
They’re subjected to hate;
No one can relate:
Beat up, torn down
day after day
With no break …
Of the horror
In which they face
On a daily base.
Once one is numb the game is done,
And many succumb to the tone of the drum
That will bring peace to their bullied life;
A gun to the head,
Or an overdose in bed,
Or maybe, just maybe …
A razor to run deep
To bleed until dead.
But praise be to God if they speak of the rod
That brought their fate of self loathing hate;
They came to you to speak true,
To a friend who never considered them as one.
And whatever you do just listen true
To the words their breath spews,
For they are standing
Between this world and the next.
It’s you that will make the difference.
So listen all night
To help find their plight;
Offer a hand and a kiss on the cheek;
Hold them tight and be concrete.
Their life lies
In the tone that you sing
When you speak in truth,
— But with love.