I got the call while I was at work.
Your mom found you lying in the floor,
You're still unconscious in the hospital,
I got here, doing the speed limit and a lot more.

They wouldn't let me see you, ICU is for family,
You're one of my best friends; they finally relented.
I finally see you and I honestly can't believe
The sight with which I'm presented.

I hold your hand and your hand is so cold,
Not like the lively girl I used to know,
I can't say the words I want to say,
But they all boil down to, "Please don't go."

____________________­____________________

D­o you see a shattered girl,
because I've been trying to tell you people all year,

I'm dying here,

like maybe I was flying around to start with,
but on the inside I'm nothing more then a Moth,

and you expect me to do the things butterfly's can do,

when I can't do more then attempt to mimic there actions,
Following far behind while all the butterfly's migrate,

but I can be miles away from my lover & still smell him from all this way,

because I'm stuck behind butterfly's,
trying to find my way to a better home,

and I will never get to a home where I can be excepted,

every place I get to I am to be greeted with fly swatters,
when butterfly's get loving fingertips to land on as if they were tired,

like they had to run from there death like me,

and everyday I fight for my life,
and the butterfly's live theirs carelessly,

so maybe I can dress in the outer shells of butterfly's that once were,

become the thing all people wanted me to be,
stop smelling my lover from miles the part us,

and let the world control me,

But even when I've given everything I've had,
In, to this ****** idea of a plan of normalcy,

just now you decide to say there may in fact be something wrong with me.

and that when I cut my wing on rose bushes,
so maybe I can feel something better then what you've done to me,

and you try to help me months almost a year after when I am close to death,

by killing me three weeks,
before my life span is up,

**tell me why butterfly's got it so good and moths gotta have it so rough?

I'll lay my soul on your tombstone

Sorry I missed the funeral darling but
I couldn't quite handle seeing you so bare in your casket

A sight so painful like the cuts I made on my wrists

Those pearls gracing your neck still pale in comparison to your beauty

Now that you're gone there's not much else to say
My days are a little more grey as every thought if you turns my head

Maybe you'll walk through the door undead
Killing my eyes with that bright laugh and smile
But it's alright I guess

I'll keep your memory just below my surface
Living in your memory using all my favorite vices

I smoke those herbs to numb it all
Bowls after bowls token up like Thomas the engine
Trying to get as high as possible to laugh so hard my tears stop being from sadness and start being from joy

I drink this patrone to forget it all
Feeling the burn of my favorite whiskey hitting my throat and slurring words a bit
Speaking so vague not even I know what I'm saying.

But it doesn't help

You're overloading my system every once in a while
With those eyes as pale blue as the sky on the last day we met

Never opening again, **** that hurts my soul

My dear it may have been four short years but
It all feels like yesterday I got that phone call

Telling me you're fighting for your breath
Telling me you might not make it
Telling me it's a time for prayer
Telling me you've been killed

But here's the deal
I've never been the spiritual type
The first thought that comes to mind when I go in road trips isn't to pray for safety
And I'm not sure why

Maybe because I prayed more in my life in the two hours between those phone calls telling me you've been hit, and when you died

Maybe because when I needed Him the most he didn't come to my rescue like everyone said he would

When I was staring at white walls and florescent bulbs waiting for the next meal
I would reject because I wanted to be hanging from a rope and noone should try to stop me

When I prayed to Him about wanting to take my own life he turned his back on me
It was as if it was meant to be

But then I sat staring at four white walls lying on a bed of nails contemplating how I made it there

Then I think about you
21 was to young to be murdered.
16 was to young to contemplate suicide.

I guess my point has been lost in traslation

But just to bring this to a close it's that your departure did more than **** you
It killed my faith
It killed my self worth
It killed me

But maybe it happened to bring me here.

You know I always have to put this positive twist here somewhere

I've settled in the university of my dreams with friends I couldn't have thought better of myself.

I've started blossoming In my poetry
Spittin these words straight from my notepad where four years ago noone would be able to stare at me this long without my anxiety destroying me inside and out

My dear, if you were still here
I don't know where I'd be today
Maybe I would have found some different passion
But I think I'm happier where I am
Then where I would have been
Had you never been taken from me

When I was a kid
I used to really dislike you
But now that you're broken
I like you
That's not the reason why
I miss you
I've always loved you
I blamed you
For all the things
That was wrong
But now without you
I wish I had you
Broken dad, why don't you
Get out of bed
Get up I want to scream
I know you would If you could
We didn't ask for this
None of us would
That November night
Changed my life
Were all broken now
All a little different
But you most of all
You got the short straw

he asked me to stay with him overnight,
at the hospital,
numerous times, i was selfish.
i refused each time.
i just wanted sleep, without the antibacterial smell,
without the beeping of machines, without the whispers of death.
without the constant reminder that i was going to lose him forever.

Hospital every year,
then every two.
This fragile heart needs mending,
for it's more than *******.

Two surgeries,
three months
and seven years.
There were so many tears.

My heart is so fragile,
it needs great care.
I will be fine,
as long as it's there.

Aspirin for six months
and probably more when I'm fixed again.
Medicine and hospitals are part of me,
as am I part of them.

I was born this way,
though I wish it weren't true.
It was merely a mistake,
or was I the accident?

"I don't mind hospitals."
It's a partial lie.
They seem normal to me,
but a screaming child
keeps me awake
when I try to sleep
the beeps away.

Let's take a moment
to appreciate
that we have technology
that keeps my heart awake.

I'm not alone-
I already know.
My mother was there too.
Maybe that's why I'm so askew.

The nurses are nice,
the surgeons are kind.
I just wish the matresses
were a bit softer... (: