You lay, that vial of poison staring back at you.
"It's been a bad day, just one sip wouldn't hurt." 
But every day, you consume this vial of poison. 
It's rotting your insides, your hearts decayed.

Everybody around is familiar with this game. 
They have tried to warn you, but you still feel no shame. 
And you continue to let the infection spread. 
It's a game of musical chairs around the hospital bed. 

You weren't taught to keep yourself restrained. 
And neither will you learn from all the lives you've stained. 
Your deed will always have a price. 
That no amount of poison will suffice. 

As you down another vial, the day's no longer gray. 
You're just a lifelong wait for a hospital stay. 
You sit and tell me how much you mean it. 
But I know it's just gossip you won't admit.

And when the time finally comes. 
Don't ask of God's forgiveness. 
You've done him no wrong. 
Ask of mine, I swear I won't mind. 

And no matter how much I pray. 
For your pain to go away. 
Nothing will dispose of your sorrow. 
As you will just drink another vial of poison tomorrow.

--Allyrea M., 6th-8th Grade