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Dear Santa,

When you arrive
And I am in bed
Shoot me three times
To make sure I'm dead

Every year on Christmas
I am always alone
But I can't handle it anymore
This year, Santa, I'm donr

Do not wake me
When you come tonight
Just pull the trigger
End my fight

You can take the cookies
You can drink my milk
Just make sure you end my life
In my nightgown made of silk

Just one more thing
I ask from you
Make sure my family
Will understand

Leave them this note
I wrote to you
So they see
What you say is true

I hope you can fulfill
My last wish list
Sincerely yours
And merry Christmas
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User
Closed minded to my opportunities, but more than wise enough to see them clearly, 
Sometimes I struggle to differentiate if I fear change, or if change fears me. 
Personal accolades aplenty yet personal fulfilment still in the wilderness, 
Treading down this abandoned cul-di-sac where I apparently need to put my skills to the test. 
In a workplace or classroom where I am asked to vacuum knowledge and apply it for the future benefit of older Caucasians that’s nations ruled over my ancestors, 
Though no longer physically, this system has still suppressed us. 
Where am I heading? What is my real purpose? 
Is it to serve and work for others until im surplus…? 
To requirements, my head spins round and round for answers like a circus, 
While shaking my head and leaving my heart feeling uncertain. 
A 20 year old with desires of composing poetry worthy enough to release to the mass media, 
On a sunny Los Angeles beach, 
And having my own personalised page on Wikipedia, 
To which it can teach. 
The younger generation which go through similar frustrations, 
That are heading for a ‘bright future’ yet cannot vision the future they are making. 
‘You’re only young’ is what they say until you’re in your late 20’s with no children, no career and no idea why you’ve spent you’re working life serving supposed superiors, 
Which is why now is the time I need to sort this mess and clear it up
Read, Rate and see Reviews

User
Closed minded to my opportunities, but more than wise enough to see them clearly, 
Sometimes I struggle to differentiate if I fear change, or if change fears me. 
Personal accolades aplenty yet personal fulfilment still in the wilderness, 
Treading down this abandoned cul-di-sac where I apparently need to put my skills to the test. 
In a workplace or classroom where I am asked to vacuum knowledge and apply it for the future benefit of older Caucasians that’s nations ruled over my ancestors, 
Though no longer physically, this system has still suppressed us. 
Where am I heading? What is my real purpose? 
Is it to serve and work for others until im surplus…? 
To requirements, my head spins round and round for answers like a circus, 
While shaking my head and leaving my heart feeling uncertain. 
A 20 year old with desires of composing poetry worthy enough to release to the mass media, 
On a sunny Los Angeles beach, 
And having my own personalised page on Wikipedia, 
To which it can teach. 
The younger generation which go through similar frustrations, 
That are heading for a ‘bright future’ yet cannot vision the future they are making. 
‘You’re only young’ is what they say until you’re in your late 20’s with no children, no career and no idea why you’ve spent you’re working life serving supposed superiors, 
Which is why now is the time I need to sort this mess and clear it up
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Poetry
How do you perceive me?
When everyone else,
Willingly up and leaves me.
... continued
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Img_0398
Should something change,
Should I choose to bolt,
Should they find me unable to breathe,
... continued
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