Hate swallowing pills.
Reminds me of memories
I rather forget.

Why does my lonely heart still smile
It’s been up, it’s been down
Haven’t felt this pain in a while

We turned to the bottle
Thought we’d just about
Hit rock bottom
Emotional beats were trodden
Sad old streets forgotten
The leaves didn’t fall this autumn

Instead we braved the dark clouds
And our worst horrors
Still don’t want to face tomorrow
Haunted by the shadows
And the sinking sorrow

They say that better days will come
I’m riding the waves of the pain
Until I’m numb
Just hoping my good grace will be saved
By the grave when my time is done

We battled and prayed
Until the war was won
After all and all the while
Somehow my lonely heart still smiles

I envisioned her being erased
as I slipped under
this frozen lake
that will cleanse me of
our brokenness
by turning my bones into icicles,
clarifying the sum
of how I became
shrouded in midnight blues
and the bluntness
shakes my last gulp loose
until the earth is still,
leaving me a cliché
as I glisten with the moon

My thoughts flicker into a dream
where we finally understood
without being mean,
where our love had
no consequence
and we did things for each other
not only because we should,
until a nightmare arises
of living torn apart
in realization that I
never appreciated her
when she was in my arms

Now I'm sorting through decay
into a dimension of
fading memory
and things speed up
as my mind begins to race,
but was it ever my mind to behold?
Are we just visions projected
through those that personify us?

The concept of missing another
has left, where is here?
Her face dissolves,
and my last thought
conjured
is a question of why
there was no emphasis
on other people or resolve
before I got lost in self-destruction,
looking for the sound
of her laughter

What remains
is unending fear
as this aura travels
elsewhere
and a body absently
sinks
to the bottom of Moses Lake;
goodbye dear

The day she committed suicide,
it was her twentieth birthday.
She was always shy,
rarely met with people,
seldom heard was her voice.

She loved to spend time alone,
talked and laughed at times,
then fell into silence for days—
until one day,
she fell silent forever.

Fighting mental illness is a little difficult,
but winning this battle is not impossible.
In memory of her, let us be a guiding light,
promote compassion and understanding.

In our hearts, a symphony of empathy thrives,
let us ensure that hope survives.
We can foster a world that’s kind and just,
where battling mental illness—
we rise, we trust.

So there's this girl
A small girl with tired eyes
She says she loves me
And I wish that I could believe her
That she was anything more than just
Water flowing through my hands
And when the bucket is empty
I'll still see her, and it won't be the same

So there's this woman
A stressed woman with worried eyes
She sees nothing more than the night before
She asks "Are you okay?"
And I tell her, "No, I'm not."
And we leave it at that.
And the next day
We do the same thing.

So there's this gun
A gifted gun with one beckoning eye
It is darker than anything I've ever stared at.
And when I look into it, I get scared.
Because I want to be whole again,
To feel the sun on my skin
To feel that hair in my face
To feel those lips on mine.
But the sun is killing me.
Because I can't be your sun.

So there's this note.
You don't have to read it
It doesn't have much merit.
I just thought about you
So I found my gift.
My wonderful god given gift.
To leave everyone I care about.
Because the sun gives you cancer.