Poetry / the streets?

and i can not say that i’m proud
of life hat i have come to know.
i feel the worst things in my soul.
all that i ever did want was just a hand to hold me down, to keep
the sky from swallowing me up.
and all i ever have needed is
for someone to come around, look
in my death glazed eyes, and tell
me that i have suffered for long
enough, with my once snow white wrists,
now scar lined and stained red.
and if i never make it hme
the streets have swallowed me up whole.

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