I will die alone
as a collection of books
abandoned on an old cupboard,
as a display in all kinds of libraries,
and only some people understand,
but fewer of which we can possibly count as good memories in writings,
even as poetry.

I will die alone,
and remember all forms of joy the latter, as a creature that ever lived,
as a flower which will not bloom again beautifully in the same place.

I'm sick of burying my friends.

I'm sick of saying that I'm sick of burying my friends.

I'm sick of planning ******* candle light vigils.

I'm sick of funerals, sick of grief, sick of the hole in my chest that keeps getting bigger.

We are so young. How are so many of us already dead? Why is it that every few months, someone that I love leaves this Earth?

It's not fair.

I'm sick of saying it's not fair.

I'm sick of "I wish i got to see you under better circumstances, but I missed you." I'm sick of crying. I'm sick of watching friends and parents and spouses and children cry. I'm sick of reminiscing on stories and looking at photos from lifetimes ago, when things were simple and we were happy.

I'm sick of "they'll always be with you."

I'm sick of "they live on through us."

I wish they'd just live.

there's nothing wrong with living in the moment
when you know you're dying by the second.
and, while it's true that you can get hurt
if you let your guard down,
there's nothing wrong with living like tomorrow's going to come.
because it will come whether or not you're here to see it.
but you never know when your time will come to an end.
so why not let yourself hope?
let yourself dream.
because life isn't always peaches and cream.

Give me a second to die.
Maybe
I will realize
that my life was special.

I've known hate,
more than I've known love.
When I die,
I will take your breath away
wearing a black glove.
I bled with shame,
Ate up pain.
When I die,
I'll forever curse your name.
Your rejection murdered my innocent soul...
When I die,
What's left of you shall also ... go

You don't die when you take your last breath, but when someone uses their breath to say your name for the very last time