Some people are insecure
About their ****** features
Their nose
Their eyes
Their chin
Their ears
Their mouth
Maybe others are insecure
With their body type
Perhaps they don't like
Their arms
Their legs
Their ****
Their chest
Their stomach
And so on
A few are destined to hate
Their distraught mind
The one that makes them go
Nuts
Their thoughts get them in trouble
With themselves
With their family
With their friends
With their peers
Some folk tend to really
Self critique
Self judge
Self hate
To the point of destruction
I wish some people could realize
That they're beautiful in another person's eyes
And the things that they hate
Are the things we others love

what is death?
is it good
or is it bad
most are scared
but not me
i would welcome death
with open arms
like and old friend
but not today my love
you hold me from him
you keep me alive
our love keeps me alive
with out you
i would be nothing
so i ask again what is death
is it torture
a lifetime without
your smile
your face
your voice
a night time
of nothing
blazing hot
or would
you be waiting
for me
siting and waiting
siting and waiting
in our own paridise
death
would be a doorway
one life
with you
for another

Inhale-
Exhale.

A smoke signal plumes from my defiant lips
Shivering in the cold
And rises into the atmospheric light of the city
It was never meant to be an SOS
It was intended to say
"Save yourselves"
But as far as I can see it has fallen entirely upon deaf ears
As just one voice in a confluence of voices-
A river of smoke signals climbing steadily into the smoggy air
Like prayers
To a god we know we don't believe in.

Inhale---------------------

Exhale.

Save yourselves
And it twists and bends and floats away
To meet the others
All screaming some collective emotion that will be left otherwise unexpressed;
And it is probably better that way.