Death waits for me like the morning frost on my window.
My days start to feel shorter and more pointless.
Morbid things cross my mind.
There are no cliffs, tall buildings or bridges where I live.
Only ropes, razor blades, and guns.
I have decisions to make.
Find purpose in my life?
Go on breathing without living?
Or die do to my not so insane insanity.

Today i had a terrible day
So bad that I don't know what to say
I won't let her see the tears in my eyes
As we're saying every single goodbye
I know its fast but I truly care
And for her I'll always be there
Whether in a way as best friends forever
Or as lovers sharing passion together.
But what makes love
What makes these feelings shove
Shove their way into our hearts
Hearts that bleed and yearn displayed as arts
Arts for all to study and askew
Askew that which they mean and their views
Views are all that we require
Require morality to light the fire
Fire inside of each of our hearts
Hearts with burning passionate parts
Parts that push and pull our blood
Blood that makes these feelings flood
Floods that bring love in our lives
Life filled springs cut short by knives
Knives that slice right through our flesh
Making us feel like just mere mesh
Mesh with the world and discover love
Love that conquers all of the above

her arms are slightly less chubby than mine
her ***** are slightly perkier
i have a slightly prettier face
she has slightly nicer clothes.
and though her smile is crooked and snaggle-toothed
and her eyes carry black bags
and her hair is the color of straw mixed with mud
she must be slightly better than me
because he wanted her
slightly
m
o
r
e

I'm writing this poem,
As a reminder to some,
That I am just human,
You're not the only one.

I breathe and I sleep,
I eat and I drink,
I also have emotions,
So just stop and think.

The words that you say,
The thoughts that you share,
Will hit me in the face,
Oh, but you don't care.

I am young and I'm sensitive,
I can't handle too much,
But yet you talk about me,
Oh jeez, thanks a bunch.

The damage you have caused,
May not seem so obvious,
But inside I am aching,
And you'll still remain oblivious.

We think death is romantic
Because the same lilies our ex bought us
On our first date are neatly draped
Over the caskets as decoration
(But there are no flowers in our arms
As we lie alone inside)

We think death is liberating
Because we imagine the shackles
Of society falling off our wrists and ankles
As we fly to a better place
(But in reality
We are locked in a prison
Beneath six feet of dirt)

We think death is infinite
Because we can never return
To the people who harmed us
And the house that was never a home
(But our bodies are not eternal
As they slowly decompose
Back to nature in the ground)

What we fail to realize is that
Life is romantic, liberating, and infinite

Romantic in the form of a sunrise
Climbing over a calm sea,
Liberating in the form of birds
Traveling to anywhere they please,
Infinite in the form of flowers,
Dying and regrowing in the spring

So on the day that you make your decision,
To end your (romantic, liberating,
And infinite) life I beg you to reconsider,
Because you may already have exactly
What you are looking for.