death can be the happiest thing,
though not thought gay nor won
to drum the drums made for the king
and to listen to the doves

as I thought of death before I died
not once was it glad or glee
and most of us fear and dread that moment
our souls are finally free

when does the sky become us?
at what moment is the soul raised to the sky?
death, say some
and some ask why
the stars are dead
and because we watch them miles and miles
from where they rest
we are yet fascinated by
these flames that hang in shapes and forms
that make up our night sky

but what if our night sky is
in fact not made up of souls?
if astronomy did not, shall not,
will not display our human bones
I would in fact believe that
the sky does make up your soul

I do believe your heart's the moon
and constellations map out your veins
so when they ask if our souls look down from above,
I'll say I'll ask when I see you again.

every night before I sleep
I pray I won’t see you again in my dreams

every time, you scratch open the wound in my back
and I’m so tired seeing you like that

why can’t I remember the days when you made me alive?
you were the only one who knew me and a part of me died

maybe all of me died when you threw me away
like the trash in the corner you’ve been ignoring all day

I hate that you treated me like that, even more that you still are
I hate that my mind tries to tell me who you are

I know that’s not you, the one I see in my sleep
I know you're not the monster I see in my dreams

please, I can’t watch you slash open the scar on my skin
because you’ve hurt me too much to hurt me again

I know that’s not you; but if it is, then who am I,
but the trash you forgot to take outside?

because you killed me and bagged me and threw me away
I was the trash that you left on the corner that day

and it's black and it stinks and I'm covered in shit
and I thought that you loved me more than this

I've tried and I've tried to push these thoughts out
and trust me, I'm trying to stop dreaming so loud

and I hate when I try to convince myself that's what you're like
but I hate it even more when I'm fucking right

You helped me with my demons my depression.

Dead inside
The explanation
The remedy for a broken heart.
Suicide Pit

And even more songs that you have so beautifully written.

Rest Easy you beautiful soul.

I will always be more then a fan.

I will be a girl that lives on because of your music.

                               With grief,
                                   Kirsten

You left years ago,
                                the bed still unmade
You left years ago,
                                the bills still unpaid
You left years ago,
                                the message I still play
You left years ago,
                                the beauty I still gaze
You left years ago,
                                the child I still raise

The day my father died
10 days after his birthday
I talked to him on that day, he seemed truly happy

I guess I was wrong since you decided to take your own life
I have doubts, regrets, and resentments towards you but also admiration and respect

You're passing caused so much pain, you took a part of me with you....

The worst part I can't feel a thing, thinking about you now doesn't cause me pain or make me cry
I'm just numb when I think about you

I'm sorry Dad, happy father's day
To bad you're six feet under and I'm in a void

Happy Fathers Day