I wish I was a flower; such a beautiful sight to see, much too alluring and dandy that to be picked off the ground to die immediately. Oh I wish I was a flower be so wild and carefree for a short amount of time then die instantly.

I remember you told me how I looked so alive in the smoke I exhaled, you also told me I had such a beautiful smile that you wished would never go away and that you hope to soon see again, I wandered what you meant by that because I see you everyday, until I heard you committed suicide the very next day.

My mind is a tornado, a chaotic jumbled mess and every time I think of you my heart jumps out of my chest. Every breath I take, oh I swear darling it's for you because the only reason I'm sure I'm still living is all because of you.

It's better to feel nothing,
I always feel like I'm drowning
So I pop a couple pills
to feel a kick of something.
The things I do to stay alive,
yet everyday feeling
like I rather die.

I inhaled it wishing it would **** me,
although I'm already dead.
I crawled into the deepest, darkest parts of my head and came to conclusion that my cigarettes are better for me than you ever were.

He wore nothing other than black even in the summer, his crystal blue eyes reflected ocean-hues and had jet black ink that could slightly be seen under the sleeve of his tattered and torn Rolling Stones tee. That boy, he was quite a mystery, had the body language of a jigsaw puzzle not wanting to be mended, although it was all opaque to me, others saw him impenetrable, however, I read him like my favorite book. This boy is exactly like me intelligent yet covert, impassive and esoteric yet a universe full of secrets and unspoken thoughts. It seemed as if his soul was somber and consumed nothing but vacuity. But I saw a masterpiece, a messily painted work of art, and that was the beauty of it. Others saw chaos on a canvas while I saw every watercolored hue that completed the exotic illustration that was, Luke.