Tis the tears at my window
come this windy mourn.
Shan't not wake it,
has it done me.

Each day brings me closer,

each day washes me out to sea.

Like a tide, ever moving

always coming back again to the beach.

I float and,

in floating,

I see the sky above me and sing

Dear the softhearted:
Sympathy won’t come.
Mourn this day
and drink its poison,
leave the ones disembodied
to haunt and garrotte.

Dear the kindhearted:
Forgiveness won’t come.
Stand thin, bloodless.
Who’s waiting at home for you?

Arranged elegantly, decorated with babies breath
Is the face of a girl that joined the ranks of death
Every where, she wore a smile
To help a friend would walk a mile
She’d connect with how you feel,
Always down to keep it real
She’d give you her last meal
Before she let you starve

I knew her since I was about eleven,
Now she stands at the gates of Heaven
And I can only imagine the look on Gods face
When she stepped into His grace
Redefining “Angel face”
For those she left behind
In the wake of suicide
Always on our minds
Since came her time..