Nine-thousand you said,
Nine-thousand would be
The number of your death.
You told me,
As if I could help.
As if you would let me.
You took the pill to ****
The thin,
Papery feeling.
We became friends,
Through our pain
But you betrayed.
I'm tired you said.
I'm going to sleep you said.
You left me.
Are you okay I said.
Please tell me you're okay.
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 12:09 PM UTC
Nine-thousand you said,
Nine-thousand would be
The number of your death.
You told me,
As if I could help.
As if you would let me.
You took the pill to ****
The thin,
Papery feeling.
We became friends,
Through our pain
But you betrayed.
I'm tired you said.
I'm going to sleep you said.
You left me.
Are you okay I said.
Please tell me you're okay.
