I'm Beth. I have had my death.

It started at a pub. Men were drowning outside in a suicidle tub.

My friends left me. I was alone as a lost golf tee.

One man came up. He gave me a cup.

I didn't want it. Then he called me a little sh**.

He grabbed me by the arm. He meant lots of harm.

He took me to the tub. I looked down into the deep blue water.

I was a gonna. He let me go and I tried to run.

But he grabbed me. Pulled back my hair.

Forcing me to go back to my death. Pushed me down into the water.

My face was stuck to the bottom. I could not move.

He has a strong grip. I had no choice.

It started to hurt. This reminds me of my friend Turt.

He had this done. But somewhere else.

Now it's happening to me. I feel like tiny flea.

Stuck in a tin. Then thrown in the bin.

I start to feel faint. I'm still blowing bubbles.

All this over a cup. Why is it me?

And that's when I stopped. I watched my body get pulled out.

I was an angel. Seeing earth below.

I got thrown onto a dustbin. With all the other dead men.

Up to scales I went. Weighed and was great.

Now hear I am. Remembering, my fate...

Author guidance for This poem

DEEAAATHHHH

updated Nov 18 '11 by izewizzyfizzy