This life
I’d like to tell a story
About a man who lived in hell
He left in quite a hurry
So his story is left for me to tell
I met this man when I was young
I knew him very well
He gave his heart to no one
He kept himself in a shell
No one seemed to really care
That he was very lonely
And often very scared
He was thrown out of here
And thrown out of there
All because he had long red hair
He knew he had rights
But still he stayed out of sight
Because for his freedom
He was forced to fight
Some called him a freak
But I knew him as Wheat
The drugs in his veins
Almost drove him insane
He took a wrong turn I’m sorry to say
And now he no longer looks back
They say he will burn but he already has
No more suffering now will he learn
He’s starting a new life
With a bright new light
He no longer lives in hell
His next story I hope
Will be one well to tell
for Stephen F Wheatley
This is a poem I wrote for my older brother who killed himself at the age of 23
About a man who lived in hell
He left in quite a hurry
So his story is left for me to tell
I met this man when I was young
I knew him very well
He gave his heart to no one
He kept himself in a shell
No one seemed to really care
That he was very lonely
And often very scared
He was thrown out of here
And thrown out of there
All because he had long red hair
He knew he had rights
But still he stayed out of sight
Because for his freedom
He was forced to fight
Some called him a freak
But I knew him as Wheat
The drugs in his veins
Almost drove him insane
He took a wrong turn I’m sorry to say
And now he no longer looks back
They say he will burn but he already has
No more suffering now will he learn
He’s starting a new life
With a bright new light
He no longer lives in hell
His next story I hope
Will be one well to tell
for Stephen F Wheatley
This is a poem I wrote for my older brother who killed himself at the age of 23
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