A drug addict's mother will view every overdose as tragic.
While most anyone else will think of them as pathetic.

A family who has a member **** themselves are filled with a hidden resentment.
But those looking over the edge are jealous and happy their pain has ended.

A ****** victim always died "too soon and too young."
But to his enemies, he was just a target on the run.

An accident is just that, and there's no one to blame.
So loved ones forever mourn, quietly going insane.

Disease is just bad luck mainly.
So children left behind often ask, "why me?"

Old age and war are the most honorable ways to go.
But put yourself in their shoes... the newly departed are finally joining their friends.

Death is all about perspective.
And it's always a selfish act.
Not on those that have left us.
But those that want them back.

One third of our life is spent asleep
25 years off in some dream...

Another third spent in work or class
50 years gone, ****, just like that

25 years left...
But of course there's more.

1 year spent using the bathroom.
Now only 24...

6 years' time spent on cuisine
Down to 18...

4 years doing housework,
A year looking for things lost,
And another 5 in line we wait.

75 given, only left with 8.

2 years watching commercials
Where did it go? Only 6?!

For a woman... 1 year is spent choosing the clothes they're wearing.
But it evens out.
Men spend just as much time admiring their choice by staring.

So down to five
But I'll end it here
It's on you now
How to live your final years.

Just as time moves forward
Just as a river current flows
Just as age brings death us toward
I must also do so

Just as a wound will mend
Just as spring leaves grow
Just as a hiker does ascend
I must also do so

I must accept
I must move on
I must not regret
I must be the love for someone

Oh, precious Hope
I feel you leaving
You're always last to go
Please, don't leave me

For if you do
I will too
I will not follow
But I will leave all, just as you

the things left unspoken
live in the space between my words
the little area of nothingness
is not really all my world
all you can see is a blank space
you can't look into my thoughts
but maybe, only if you could
you'd see I'm just a knot
but just because I can't express it
doesn't mean it isn't there
*the galaxies inside of me
aren't so simply shared

Sometimes I get a longing
to fade into the sky
to watch my skin turn pink and orange
and drift into the night

Sometimes I get a longing
to sink into the sea
to hear my voice become the waves
and crash along the shore

Sometimes I get a longing
to wane into the wind
to blow between the brushing leaves
and touch tree tops again

I long to be a calming force
but one that's violent too
I long to take just any course
of this life that I so choose