There was a bottle made from glass. All alone gasping for air. Breath took, gone, it’s away. Lonely waiting. Filled up with nothing but so full of everything. The little glass bottle soon to burst, glass flying. Sip sip sip. Everyone took. Only the glass had feelings, no one knew. They countied to fill the lonely glass with nothing but air but yet the air the oxygen was killing, murdering the glass. The top of the glass had a roof. Over its head stood a cover. PROTECTING as they’d say. No one knew that one day the glass would burst. That day came. Glass flying everywhere hurting those who said they cared. If only they cared a little bit sooner the lonely glass bottle would not have gone. Gone now everyone shattered just like the glass. Now you feel it. Now you know. You know the pain of being alone. (Suicidal writer) – explanation of how I feel .
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