And as the room begins to brighten
I'm enlightened by a soft touch
of bones easily dislocatable
And sensitive to touch
And even though those bones slip
From their holes
The floor holds them before me
So delicate and worn
I've sworn that I'll swallow my disease
Digest it, spit it up before you have
To see it acting up
But today was different
You watched my ears close and head shake
With blood down my nose
Sweat on my clothes
From holding it back.
I'm sorry you had to see it
See it act up.

The biggest wings I've seen,
Lay comatose on your shoulders,
Held down by the weight.
The weight of your own body
Causing it's own fatality.

They yearn to stretch
And fly and play,
But you have to pay.
You've got nothing left to give,
And all we wish
Is for you to live.
Who knew half an inch
Could do this damage?
Emotional famine,
I cannot cry.
I haven't figured out why.
All I can do is try
To not let it get to me,
You see,
I love you with all my heart.
All I want is your wings to stretch
And fly
I still have yet to figure out why.
Why you?

I'm not a good person,
It's not too hard to see.
It's pouring from my sweatglands
And lingering in my sleep.

I'm not a good person,
It's pretty obvious to see.
Cause everthing you tell me,
I seem to believe.

The 5 stages of grief and loss are:
1. Denial and isolation;
2. Anger;
3. Bargaining;
4. Depression;
5. Acceptance.

I lay on you, and breathe in the smell
Of your hair, feel the small vibrations
Of your laugh resonating the soft felt pews.
I tell myself I will remember this forever,
So when I miss you, I can still feel you.
The mood grows serious,
The vibrations of your voice shrink down
To a whisper, and crumble
Like rocks beneath a hammer.
"When I die," you say,
Fleeing every so called good feeling felt
Away from this place.
"You're going to get bear,
But I can't tell you what you're getting yet."
She tells us.
Me.
Him.
The only ones here who know.
You told me yesterday, yes you did.
I smiled, I cried, I cussed at God,
I cried again, I bargained,
But I still did not accept.
I smiled and told you it would be okay.
But I think I know deep down inside
That you know deep inside
It might not be okay.
It came back. It's here, in this room,
Inside you.
And I keep making up scenarios where
Someone has asked me
"Would you do this thing if it meant she lived?"
And I always say yes no matter how
****** up the action may be.
Maybe this is the bargaining.
You're not dead yet, but ****
It feels like it.
It will be years.
I'm sure of it.
But I'm just so scared, babe.
I'm so scared.
No one so young should be labeled
With an experation date,
A summarization of how long their life
Will be.
No one.