All your old friends are out tonight,
But you’re bound home by chain.
It’s not one of your body,
It’s a lockdown of your brain.
They left you there,
Weak, sad, and lonely, atop your miserable throne.
Now you hardly have sanity,
To faintly call your own.
You remember just how it happened,
The day, as clear as crystal.
Everything started that terrible night,
When she met Mr. Pistol.
Since she self-destructed,
Life has never been the same.
You point fingers at yourself,
Just to steal away the blame.
That was what pushed them all away,
Made them start to leave.
At first, all of us, we tried to help,
But all you could do was grieve.
Every friend’s still worried though,
Worried about your path.
You’re so caught up in feeling dead,
And all of guilt’s old wrath.
It’s not your fault,
So don't feel bad,
About the varied bath she took,
Your sisters life was scary,
Her world crooked and shook.
But I know that she’s in that, “Better place,”
Just calmly stop to look.
You see, in the end, we all find peace,
And sign Heavens Guestbook.
Honorable mention
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