He got up in the morning.
He was happy.
He was loved.
He lived.

He got up in the morning.
He was still happy.
Then his mom yelled, and he felt less loved.
He lived.

He got up the next morning, but it took a while.
He was sad because they are no longer friends.
Then his dad yelled, and he felt unloved.
He lived.

He woke up the morning after,
And he wasn't happy. He wasn't sad.
His parents never yelled, but he still wasn't loved.
He was barely living.

He never woke up the next morning.
He wasn't happy, but he was no longer in pain.
His parents cried, and he felt loved.
He is gone, but in ways he is now living.

I watched him die.
Excruciating?
More for me or for him I will never know.
I watched as his body disintegrated right before my eyes.
Once fat with a glow,
Turned to pure skin and bones.
A middle class man in America to look worse than a child starving in Africa.
I would have not thought it possible before I watched.
I watched him die.
And I did nothing.

When something dies, it is gone.
I don't care what you say about souls.
It is gone.
So, when a friendship dies, it is so **** hard to revive.
It is similar to reviving a human being.
You try and try, but there is just nothing there.
There may be air rushing through their lungs,
But there is no effort behind it.

Oh lovely light,
Shine into my soul.
Enlighten me God.
Bring out of me what I know is hidden inside.
Sing to me.
Make me listen,
Make me be whole.
Let my tears turn to holy water,
and have me dive in.
Make me see,
See what can be done,
What will be done.
Let me love,
not love others because I already do.
Let me love,
Love myself.

The glass shattered on the floor in the spot where I smashed it.
Her expression was horrified.
Her small hand caressed my face like an angel's slap.
Our tears were slow and syncronized as they slid down our faces.
"Momma, why did you scream? Why did you do that?"
I tried to smile as I wiped the black streaks off my face.
"Oh, baby. Momma slipped, and accidently cut herself. I dropped it."
She put her small arms around my neck and whispered, "I love you." into my ear.
At that moment I made my decision, and drove her to her grandmother's.

She once told me that the world was beautiful, graceful, and all knowing.
She said that all you had to do was pick up a flower and you would know everything you needed to know.
As the flower started to wilt away she told me that you had to hold the stem tighter and look closer, but like the world, it was still beautiful.
She smiled the next day, and laughed as she told me the world could be better, but it was still all knowing.
The flower was discolored and had the consistancy of muddy grass. She told me that the world was full of remorse, terror, and violence. I looked at her, and I must have looked confused because she told me to look at her arms. She lifted her silk sleave and I noticed thin red lines going across her arms. She smiled with a tear in her eye and told me my world was beautiful. I never saw her again.