Your life was a constant
staring contest
with the barrel of a gun,
or bottle of pills,
or whatever it may be.
I don't think you ever
truly believed
things would get better.
I think they all forced it down
your throat.
Endless strings of letters
and numbers
configuring into
teen suicide statistics
and muttering
fine
and okay
whenever needed.
I thought you were nice,
despite your negative outlook
on life.
I'd love to hang out with you
again,
even if it is
just to hear you
complain.
I don't know why you
hated the world,
or why your humor
was sicker than you
ever were.
I don't know why
the stars never shone in your eyes,
or why the landing of '69
didn't spark your
everdying interests.
I'm guessing you didn't
either.
Mar 23, 2015
Mar 23, 2015 at 3:39 PM UTC
Your life was a constant
staring contest
with the barrel of a gun,
or bottle of pills,
or whatever it may be.
I don't think you ever
truly believed
things would get better.
I think they all forced it down
your throat.
Endless strings of letters
and numbers
configuring into
teen suicide statistics
and muttering
fine
and okay
whenever needed.
I thought you were nice,
despite your negative outlook
on life.
I'd love to hang out with you
again,
even if it is
just to hear you
complain.
I don't know why you
hated the world,
or why your humor
was sicker than you
ever were.
I don't know why
the stars never shone in your eyes,
or why the landing of '69
didn't spark your
everdying interests.
I'm guessing you didn't
either.
