you said i
was a
beautiful
red rose

but you
pricked me
with your
sharp thorns

and left me
here, without
help, or friend

you left me
bleeding,

you left me
here to                                                                                                      *die

thank you
for reading
my poems

i am very
         very
happy
that you
guys did.

i can't express
how thankful
i am for you
guys, thank
you.

whatever
       we are, i still
             remember the way
   we were

and i think the
saddest thing
is how it is so much
easier
to just not say
anything
at
all.

before you **** yourself,
just remember
that there are
places you have not been
and things you have not seen.
and poems to awe
art to draw
fields to walk through,
people to talk to,
music to take in,
games to win,
and books to be read.

so why,
oh why
do you wish
to be dead?

I gathered the ladders
One after another I strung them together
Planted their base
Like a bed of wooden flowers
And set them up towards the heavens
Till the top pierced
The white billowy clouds
And when I got to the top
The clouds didn’t stop
They went on like
A white winter wasteland
But I never found the place
Where the human race
Settles after they die