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The people we love,
they come and they go
leaving us with misery and depression
but maybe if we dig down deeper in their graves
we'll find them in a better place that we might meet them in
some day...
 May 2016 Chandler Darlingz
my dear it's so quiet here without you
and oh my dear is it raining there too?

my dear while you're gone there's nothing here to save
so i think i'll visit the cemetery and name the unmarked graves.
August 15, 2013 /itsjusterin
Flowerbeds. Treasure.
These heaps of soil on the ground can mean life, have value.
They hold secrets, treasures, can be the calling for an adventurous man or the vocation of the neighborly woman with the green thumb.
But when you read the title, you thought of graves, didn't you?

That's how twisted and sadistic, how pessimistic and dull our world has become. We don't see the possibilities of beauty that bloom in secret behind the thick fog our words create. We don't have the capacity to understand how something like a grave- which, in our culture means death and insurmountable amounts of weeping- could mean anything but sorrow.

But just take the time to look closer.

On top of graves, flowers bloom for their inhabitants, guarding the treasure that lays just under the thin crust of soil below. They represent the life that was lived laughing, loving, and learning over the years. The blossoms show the value seen in this particular person by others, who smile when they remember the friend who still lives on in their thoughts.

Now, I'm not telling you to laugh and be joyful at a funeral. But consider the amount of hope brought by those stalks swaying in the breeze, the happiness recollected by the thin delicacy of the petals...

Look at those mounds of dirt. And rejoice.
Our society seems to like to stereotype everything, and now those stereotypes stain our words.
We tread in silence, wreaths upon
Gravestones, where you lie amongst
Flowers unpicked, at rest.
I have broken into many graves
Stolen peace from lifeless bodies
What I am searching for is not there
 May 2016 Chandler Darlingz
at 12 years old I found love with a girl who to this day has never left my mind

it wasn't love, of course

it was a cute case of a dependant child finding someone to be close to for the first time

but it's reassuring to think of her every now and then- a reminder that life will always go on, no matter what

even when you think you can't breathe or live without an idea that never truly happened

She was and remains nothing to me
And I think that is all she will ever be

But will always hold a place in my heart, a place of childishness and embarrassing yet precious memories

I guess I just loved the idea of her
I guess that's what I'm mourning, not her
this is so disjointed. that's what I get for making a poem out of  my twitter ramblings.
 May 2016 Chandler Darlingz
 May 2016 Chandler Darlingz
I hate the sun.
I like the rain.
I am the rain.

I am cold,
I am needed
And I'm often times annoying.

I love singing in the rain.
I love walking in the rain.
I love driving in the rain.
I am calm.
The rain is calm.

I follow the rain.
I hate climbing hills and paths.
I am always going down,
Sometimes trickling along,
Sometimes I am a force that takes the surrounding earth by storm.

Everything seems brighter after it rains.
Greener greens and grayer grays.

I hate the sun,
And I feel like  you would have loved it.
My beautiful boy.
And I'm sorry that you never got to see it.
I wish I could have carried you to it.
I'm sorry you only got to feel my rain.
I hope it was enough for you.
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