i’ve felt my soul grown quieter with every passing day.
my lungs are tired
compressed in a vessel
that poisons it’s very own heart.
i’m not asking that you save me,
only that you read my confessions that depict every inch of my being
and accept the way i bathe in my sins.

I'm tired,
To my bones I think
Sleep doesn't fix,
What my soul emits
A tiredness so deep,
Time quits
I've lost all sense
As I bail this dying ship.

You mind your steps
   after you've stumbled.
You miss your home
   after you’ve left it.
You value your health
   after you’ve been sick.

But you can’t enjoy life
   after you died.

Poems aren't written,
they're found,
Somewhere in your head the words are waiting,
They're sprawled across the floor,
You just need to pick them up,
Make a path with them,
Let your path guide observers,
And if you can't write,
Walk down somebody's else's path first,

If I could turn back time
I would hit Backspace all day,
Id put on Caps Lock
and SHOUT what I say.

I'd use the whole Alphabet
To tell you hello,
Press seven Numbers
Til you picked up the phone.

I'd Tab through the comments
I didn't want to hear,
And use the Arrow Keys
To drag your body near.

I would Delete the harsh words
I didn't mean to speak,
And Insert the "I love yous"
I before couldn't leak.

I would use Ctrl to
Keep reigns over my heart,
And I would Escape lies
That tore us apart.

I'd Print out your photo
And kiss it goodnight,
Use the Calculator
To check that we were right.

I'd Paint you a picture
of us, you and me,
Then I'd hit Enter
Just so you would see.

Those are the things
I would do in my strife,
If only Backspace
worked in real life.