Next to them, she's ugly:
Her face is too round,
her hair is too thin.

Next to them, she's just plain:
Her eyes are not shiny,
her laugh not endearing.

Next to them, she's just fat:
Her arms are too thick,
her hips too wide.

Next to them, she's nothing:
She's untalented,
un-smart,
has nothing going for her.

Next to them, she's a failure:
no achievements,
nothing special.

Next to them...well, she's incomparable
to the people surrounding her,
to those she sees everyday.

She fades into the background,
because next to her, there are better people

that soak up all the attention....
next to her.

You crinkled the foil of pain medication
to turn back the clock, or make it disappear.
You said it's not worth it anymore
and shoved down the pretty little pill.

Your blithe expression, your nonchalant eyes
made you believe you would be reborn.
But I haven't heard of any signs of rebirth or revival
in that ceasing heart of yours.

And the celerity of this motion
of swallowing a pill,
is followed by a a draft of ***
to double the quick and painless death to come.

Death cannot be undone.

Sometimes it’s easier to hide
what I really feel.
Sometimes it’s easier to run away
from what I really feel.
Sometimes I pretend to not believe
what I really feel.

But what I really feel will never go away.

Your heart has cigarette burn-holes through it. 
Your heart leaks as it beats. 
No one likes a leaky heart, my dear, 
no one likes a bleeding heart. 

Here's some gauze to patch it up. 
Wrap it tight, I'll give you more--you'll need it. 
But this is only temporary, my dear, 
someone will end up unwinding the First Aid. 

So the doctor called, she said there's no cure,
except for a deep, drowning sleep. 
Take these pills, my dear, 
so you can ease your crying heart. 

Your heart is dripping alcohol now. 
Drink some water to dilute the stinging pain. 
Take these pills now, my dear, 
so you can end this once and for all.

As time passes, the black and white films
and the gramophone bleed to death,
leaving behind thin puddles, thin residual stains behind;
Only to be remembered by History.
Never overestimate or underestimate
the power of their existence,
for this annihilates the truth of their likeness,
all surrounding me, and all surrounded by me.

You are the innocent soul
that lies beyond the hallowed edge of night.
A final breath of ghosts is the closest I'll arrive.

You stretch your lustrous limbs one last time
before vanishing beyond the secret border,
leaving an unfinished, but permanent shape in your place

to fill a gargantuan pit you leave behind in the sky.
Nothing can succeed you. Thus the night is empty
and all wanderers of Earth are left to sleep.

The bed is my make-shift coffin, and the horizon is yours.
Your death pit is always filled with a luminescent light,
and mine will be filled with a crepuscular dust.