16 weeks, 1 day, 7hrs and 32 minutes.

Searching through whiskey soaked eyes, hoping life would cut him down so police didn't have to.

He stepped off.

Whatever last decent piece of him he had, was left, wind swept on a platform with unknowing idle eyes watching.

A 'good morning' or a 'hello'. Could have changed his course of action, but the drink spoke to him were others couldn't.

Just another forgotten page from yesterday's news. Imagine what he could have been if he was sober?
Help comes in all shapes and sizes.

It happened..
I finally grew up,
I'm ready now.

I'm ready to fall in love with you.
I'm ready to make you my chaos and my calm. I'm ready to make memory's and stuff.

I didn't have the answers before or know what page to look on for advice. But now I burn wondering.

Wondering how to get back to the immature me, so I can show him how to love you.

I wanted to say so much, but the match was to far lit and I understand you can't relight cinders.

We spoke soft about the crashing,
and how strong the winds were.

The rain that hits objects sideways,
And the madness in the middle of the storm.

Sometimes storms shouldn't pass
Because from a distance,



they're so beautiful.