Now I am gone; think of me and smile.
Think of all the good times we had;
how I made you laugh;
what fun we had;
and what love we shared.
You may cry at my funeral, but let it be brief.
For every time you think of me;
think of me and smile.

I can’t write what I wanted to write,
For my head is empty like a room painted in white
Or maybe it’s just so messy, that I can’t think.
I can’t even produce sentences that I can perfectly link.

Do you know what I think about when I see a single butterfly flying in the air?

No, you’re wrong, I don’t think of you. I think of how that butterfly keeps flying in the air, landing on flowers, leaves and trees while being all alone. With what purpose does this mere butterfly have and why does it keep flying around in such a majestic way.
I guess I think of myself. I too like the butterfly am constantly flying around with no purpose yet I continue looking majestic as I land on some flower.

BUT, when I see two butterflies flying together, I think of you and I, and that for a moment in time, I was not alone. That I found someone I could ‘fly around with majestically’ while still having no purpose. But you flew away and left me on some flower.
So now when I look at two butterflies flying together, I also see that there’s a chance to find someone else that will join me in my (no purpose) life’s adventures.

Confusion of the senses
I smell a burning lie
Listen to the color's leak
Fall out the endless sky

I am all out of inspiration, my life a desolate hell.

I don't feel well, on a precipice might just end all my relations.

Desperation to make it cease, before I too am just a shell.

Maybe he fell, or maybe he was pushed by the temptation.




Either way, he knew something... A secret.

Couldn't tell anyone, there was no speaking.

Seeking an easier way to explain. Possibly with feelings?

Pealing faces away, shouldn't do any harm.




Never existed? That's wishful thinking.

A fistful of change, loaded and ready to meet the misfit's mesure.

Yet the virus was still there, slinking towards its next victim.

Another, and another, and yet another. It goes on forever and forever. No forgetting.

its a jungle up here,
full of "what-ifs" and expectations,
you'll always get lost in there,
i should know.
all roads lead to nowhere
and all happy thoughts
are turned to sad ones.
always thinking with
my heart,
which leads to pain.
it's a mad world,
my brain.

“Think before you speak”
You tell your impatient 5-year-old,
Who’s fighting to find her place.

“Think before you speak”
You tell your mad scientist 8-year-old,
Who’s fighting to make her own place.

“Think before you speak”
You don’t have to tell your sad 12-year-old,
Who’s place seems as mixed up and hidden from reality as hope.

“Think before you speak”
You might tell your 15-year-old on her way to a protest,
Who’s place in this world is to fight.

Or

“Think before you speak”
You might scold your 15-year-old on trial for violent protests,
Who thought her place in this world was to change everything.

Or

“Think before you speak”
You might croak out at your 15-year-old’s funeral,
Who thought it was too late to find a place,
Too late to be found.

Your eyes,
your smile,
your nose,
The way you laugh,
the way you talk,
the way you walk,
the way you think,
the joy you bring!
Should I not be able to see
or not be able to hear
I’d know when you come near:
You’re beyond perfect, the way you’re composed
You could make me fall in love with my eyes closed