My life
is made up of
interesting lives.
People that seem
to always be in
motion, doing
and experiencing life
and all that it offers.
I merely sit and observe
from behind the railings,
Yearning to join in,
But having not the courage
That would be needed to
Step away from my life
Into the one I wish I had.

It says you were active 12 minutes ago
Even though you've been dead for twelve years
It was probably your cousin, you took over your page a few days after your passing
She turned it into a sort of yearbook, just for you
I wish you could see it
I always get my hopes up when I see that little green do appear on the screen
But it's never you
It hasn't been you in so long
It feels like just yesterday, you were by my side
Smiling and laughing and braiding your sister's hair
She hasn't worn a braid since you left
She says that nobody else can do it half as well as you did
We all miss you darling
I wish you'd come back
Even though I know you can't
You're still alive in my dreams though
And you'll always have your place in my heart

You say that me shutting you out is selfish
but lets talk about being selfish

Is it not selfish of you
to constantly demand me to
open up to you when I don't
want to talk about it?

Is it not selfish of you
to ask me to change my ways
just so that you don't have to
deal with my problems

Is it not selfish of you
to keep me here in misery
while I'm suffering and you
won't let me go

Is it not selfish of you
to ignore my problems
as if they were not important
and you don't care

So please don't call me selfish,
when in reality I should be calling you selfish

They say that over time, it dissipates -
it will drain from you, evaporate like smoke.
It will descend upon you, destroy you;
but will soon release you, and fade.

But with time it instead grows stronger,
demanding to be felt.
It knocks on the doors of my soul,
its urgency to be let inside unrelenting and ruthless.

Like an unpredictable storm, it lands and ravages,
leaving just fragments of a heart already rebuilt.
What is gone is the will;
the resiliency dulled, the courage spent.

It's a deep-rooted ****, an unrivaled opponent;
It's a malevolent fire that refuses to be smothered.
The Hurt:
a wound that permeates, and remains.