I wrote this last night, but I don't have a title.

You look at his room and you see the pain,
But he’s not there, all you hear is the rain.
The situation’s beyond help and repair,
All he can do is pray in despair.
She wonders why his heart’s so broken,
Isn’t it obvious? He left himself open.
Everyone thinks all he needs is a prayer,
But how would they know? Only she was there.
He stays awake thinking at night;
“How the hell can I win this fight?”
Little does he know that he had the win,
Too late now, he may as well die in sin.
At sixteen, life was a ball,
By seventeen, he’d lost it all.
How can anyone understand his torment?
No-one can, she just got up and went.
The clouds float and stare,
Whilst he hangs himself there.

There could be a hidden meaning behind this, Dave'll have to tell you. He knows all.