She was a force of nature
Her blood ran as cold as a tundra
Her thoughts spun like a tornado
She was the reason hurricanes were named after people
She could leave you drenched and defeated like a tsunami
Her kisses were electrifying
God gave her the beauty of a spring flower
She was a natural disaster the news forgot to warn you about.
She was catastrophic

"Irony is as simple as drawing trees on paper."

I know I'm just a stranger,
shouting blindly to the dark.
But I will see this message sent,
it comes straight from the heart.
If suicide's consumed your mind,
the "only" option left to you.
Drop me just a couple lines,
what more have you to lose?
I've seen some malice in this world,
I've felt ridiculed and shunned.
I know how attractive it can be,
hell, I've even picked the gun.
So lend me just a moment,
in the least you'll know you're heard.
Maybe with a little luck,
I'll lend some clarity through word.

The colors of the sun run,
like damaged tapestries.
Painting the sky surrealistic
and I wonder what it means to me.
Light reflected from waters surface
glitters for a moment then refracts,
A million different directions
leaving more questions than it subtracts.
How many lives have sparked and died,
within the never ending depths?
The waves receive the query
and to the bottom it gets swept.

Two boats float on the horizon,
as I watch the setting sun.
They put the picture in perspective,
how deep and far the water runs.
It makes my concerns seem awfully small now.
The vastness hits me like a bomb.
The burden of my ghosts lifts from my shoulders
and I think "Alayhim as-salaam"

we are changing
and yet,
we haven't changed at all.

So much death.
Twenty-two years of life
and I have experienced,
so
much
death.
My heroes all died,
as they will,
when youthful ignorance
turns to a bitter understanding on the reality of men.
We are flawed.
But it didn't stop there.
No,
year after year it seems,
death reaches all too soon.
A drug overdose,
a car accident,
a suicide.
One by one,
friends, family and enemies alike,
all have passed.
Some sought the grave,
some simply stumbled upon it.
It's all the same though,
the dead slumber;
the living carry on.
Until they don't.