if i die young, know i died unhappy and life’s unfair,
if i grow old and die traditionally,
know i died unhappy and life was a misery

i’d tell you a tale
of all of my life’s history
but it would all be derailed and all sound pale
in the words of my mouths contradictory
so i’ll leave you with my frail words for the cemetery;

if i die young, know i died unhappy and life’s unfair,
if i grow old and die traditionally,
know i died unhappy and life was a misery

when i’ll die, i’ll die artistically
candle lights, speaking words lyrically
and if youll ask me if i could go back and do it all again, if i’d make a change,
i’d say in a heartbeat
and if i did, i wouldn’t have to repeat

if i die young, know i died unhappy and life’s unfair,
if i grow old and die traditionally,
know i died unhappy and life was a misery

for i didn’t do it my way,
i did it life’s way
if a decision could have swayed
me in another direction,
i would be happier, in the life of my correction,
that got lost and died with life
while i waited to come back to mine

so if i die young, know i died unhappy and life’s unfair,
if i grow old and die traditionally,
know i died unhappy and life was a misery

and to my life, i miss you
and to my cat-child, i miss you
and to my moms eyes, i miss you
and to my sister-child, i miss you
and to what was once mine, i miss you

I like to think you would do anything for me.
But as I lie in the dark
in silence,
I begin to wonder...
Would you?

Would you glue my glass edges back together,
after I fall apart on the floor?
When I collapse in a fit of sobs,
would you hold me and dry my tears?

I wait for the chance for you to prove these things to me.
To show that you care.
But when it comes down to saving me...
Would you?

I'm drowning in an ocean of you,
and only you.

There is no concept of time anymore.
A minute feels like hours,
but a year is just a moment.

I am sinking.
Whether fast and diving to the bottom,
or slow and drifting softly into the depths.

Sometimes the tide is harsh,
and throws me around.
Other times the sea rocks me softly
into an endless sleep.

At first I thrashed,
gasping for air but being empty of it.
I screamed and begged,
for I did not want to become the water.

Over time I accepted the calm blue warmth,
I embraced it.
I grew gills to adapt to the lack of oxygen,
and fins to swim through every thought of you.

I no longer am drowning;
I am choosing to stay.
I am navigating the crystal waters,
as if I've lived in them my whole life.

So if I am drowning:
I will tie large stones to my feet,
and embrace the darkness that is to come.

Is it all too much when I ask for nothing?
Just for you to say 'hi' in the halls,
And ask if I'm okay when I'm crying in the corner,
But it's all too much for you.

Is it all too much when I say a word?
Just one single word about myself,
And even when the words are ones you should care about,
It's all too much for you.

Is it all too much when I hang around?
Just to be there and not be lonely-stricken like I am,
And have someone to keep me accountable,
But it's all too much for you

Because even when I'm sad, and down,
Even when I stay up late for your wallows,
Even when I need to rant because then I'll scream,
And I listen to all of your creations without a second thought.
Even when I'm just there; silent, invisible,
You'll still push me out.

I know that I'm weird, a mess—different,
But so are you, and that's what makes us fit.
But now you glare at me from down the hall,
So I'm sorry this can't mend,
But that's alright with you, isn't it?

it’s never easy
to lose someone
close to you.

it’s never easy
to say goodbye.

broken hearts
can mend,
but there’s a
hole inside—

a place
where your love
used to live.

you feel
like a part
of you
is missing.

you search
for light
at the end
of the tunnel,

but tunnel vision
keeps you stuck,
and still
you try
to rise above it.

losing someone
so close
hurts deeper
than words allow.

and you feel
you’ve been
down on your luck
since the start
of may.

it’s never easy,
and there’s no
easy way
to say this—

but i want
you to know:

it’s okay
to grieve.
it’s okay
to hurt.

because getting
over it
is never easy.

it takes
a strong heart
to heal,

and a stronger soul
to rise again—
to start over,
and live.

before age two,
before she walked or wore
her first pair of shoes. She
held down the fort when

daddy left home. He was
the type of man, that liked to
roam. She soldiered on through
her mother's drunken nights,

when dear old mom knocked
out her lights. Mopped up her
***** on the kitchen floor. Home
was a place she called

war. She didn’t have ribbons
and satin dresses. Her mouth,
filled with abscesses. She wore
thrift-shop clothes, moth-eaten

ones, with quarter-sized
holes. She dropped out of
school to get a job. Not a day
goes by that she doesn't

sob. But she holds her
head up high because she
has a new home made of
paper. She calls a poem.

Mother's day
her gold necklace in my nightstand drawer
her sweet voice in my ears