There are only a few in this civilization,
who can be the givers.
Since the beginning, the time of our creation,
many things have happened that would give you the shivers.

We hold the bad things,
we take away your pain,
the horrible endings,
that led to our gain.

But someday we won't, we won't be able to take it,
the weight of the lives, the lives that couldn't make it.
We'll have fallen apart and couldn't even fake it,
our bodies turned stone and none will ever break it.

People died today
So what you may ask, people die every day
But sometimes it's not about their death, it's about the way
The way their lives were ended

And it had nothing to do with what they did
No, it didn't i swear, they just happened to be there
And it couldn't have been prevented

So people died today
No they didn't just die, they were killed
And we better remember this day, the innocent blood that was spilled
And we better ******* learn from it.

do you have moments, where you can’t imagine a future?
you’re lying there, staring at the
same walls
same ceilings
same words
with nothing but the same feelings-
empty and pale,
like there’s no reason to go on,
when you can’t even do enough to fail.
the future is coming, but you don’t want to be in it,
can’t imagine yourself in it.
where you just want to stop.
everything.
and just sit there for a while.
maybe not death, as that’s too permanent,
but something close to it.
when you can feel the rope around your neck,
the razor on your wrist,
the way the pills taste.
you can imagine it, and you aren’t sure if it’s what you want,
or just the feelings you imagine it will give you

In a cottage near Tibet
an old man in his bed
  lies expecting that
   which all of us will face

    there's nothing on his mind
     he's old and nearly blind
      he leaves no one behind

       a little more ahead
        two figures lightly tread
         then suddenly stop dead
          and turn towards the shed

           then

            one walks towards the place
             where the old man rests his face
              on his old and washed out pillow case
        
               the figure step by step
                gets closer to the shed
                 and then to the man's bed

                  the old man turned his head
                   to face the figure at his bed
                                      "Finally..." he said.

i dread the day you learn
for the first time that
you can't just love all
the darkness in me away

and no matter how much
you care i will still toss
and turn at night and scars
might still appear on my skin

i dread the day you realize
that you can't cure me
and sometimes all you can do
is stand next to me and
hold my hand through fog
pouring out of my ears so black
and thick we can't even see
each other's faces

i dread the days i can't
get out of bed
the days you want to
take me out and all
i can manage is a prettified
shell of myself

i dread the day you learn
that sometimes no matter
how hard i try i still can't
pull myself together

the day you learn that
there isn't an answer
you can give that will
save me from my fears

you aren't the first person
who has tried to love the
darkness inside away
my family and friends
have given it their all
but someday you too will learn
that if love could
cure mental illness
the world would be
a much better place