Perhaps my queen a heart was never something you had, instead you held a ***** with which you dug your own grave. This Jack of diamonds in the rough patches of life still shone ever so brightly until you decided to club his dreams to death with your lies...

This simple game of cards is more commonly known as the game of *life.

You take the hand of a liar who says that you were their first, but that hand has been held tens of times before you. Highschool hearts are exchanged like currency between people, the more you've got the more popular you are. Some get nothing, some get everything...it's just like at the carnival, but instead it's a carnival of love.

Angels arms open wide to receive the soul of those whose lives ended too short...

To the sound of a gunshot, the silence of disease whatever it may be it took them to early...

I've lost too many in this war known only as life. I have watched as their lifeblood drips from their fingertips and floats blissfully into the sky, coloring it a crimson red in the early morning...

He was too young, taken by death at the ripe age of 15...why I ask every morning as I remember the final smile I ever gave him wishing him luck on his math test later that day...

I remember the look on his face as we parted ways, it was one of hope, only to be dashed by the hell that we live in.

Taken to early he was, forever he will be missed...

On a hot day in July I stood with my hands in my pockets and my mind in the clouds. It felt like I had the world at my finger tips and perhaps for the first time in a long while, I was happy.

Surround yourself with friends and family, let go of all of your dark thoughts, because I did, and look where it got me.

Perhaps one might wonder why the world is filled with people whose only emotions are hate and rage...

Where have those that care gone you might ask?

*Oh they are still there, they just hide from those that hurt them.

The pen, his instrument of self destruction. He holds it between his feelings and his lies. Perhaps if you look closely you will see that his ink is running out.

What's left of his ink bleeds out onto the paper as if his own wrists were slit by the words that he writes...

The one that bleeds the longest is usually the one who smiles the widest.

Tomorrow looms as if it is a storm cloud. Perhaps I should ask what will come of this storm, or perhaps I should just wait it out...

You know when the storm hits it will destroy everything in it's path.

But remember destruction always brings new growth.

Tomorrow looms as if it is a storm cloud. But as far as I know, storms always end with a rainbow.