Death of a breath. Every-time I take a breathe it dies. When your mind is numb like sitting in a freezing river, body hurting like a thousand sandstones being throw at the vessels in your arms, feelings hurting and scared like reading a horror book at night in the dark then getting lost in the woods alone. With every breathe taken is like a choice of living or dying, when your too scared to let go of the things that hurt you to feel okay again, but being okay to take a blade to the cotton smooth skin that once held every touch of love that was given. With every breathe is like needles in my lungs, and every thought is like the screams of your own feelings reminding you, you keep doing what you wish you didn’t do. When you drive for improvement in yourself but lose control at the wheel and go off the cliff that you once climb to prove to yourself that if you want it, you have to climb. With every breathe I take, I feel the sorrow I give to those who see and suffer my addiction of slacking off. I want rehab, I try the cold turkey quitting to make those and myself better again, but it’s like using an old needle that you just can't break.

Isn’t it funny how well we all can hide? People never see how well others can hide the pain n sadness in their eyes and behind the 2 words of “I’m fine”, like how a chameleon can change its color to blend in to the background. There’s so many that fight their own battles in the dark, and still help others before themselves, like superhero’s that don’t wear a uniform, a suit, or even a cape. Just because we say we’re fine, hide it in our eyes, and don’t wear something to show it, doesn’t mean that we aren’t screaming for help, and bury the tears in our eyes. Look into our eyes, they’ll say a thousand words before our mouths could even speak a single word, like how a waterfall is so loud you can’t hear anything else. Our eyes are like waterfalls, they have beauty and speak depth, but have their own secrets. Our eyes are the path to helping someone, please look into our eyes when we speak, when we laugh, to cry, to smile, to feel the human touch. Look into our eyes, and have arms open wide. Cause even hero’s and waterfalls, need to fall sometimes.

To the girl with the sorry eyes. I’m sorry for your sadness, I’m sorry for your pain, I’m sorry for the way you can’t love yourself like how a young girl hears the first cat call walking home after she was just told she will never amount to anything. I’m sorry you can’t look in the mirror and see the simple beauty that the world seems to hide like the black silhouette of the fallen solider. I’m sorry for so long you didn’t fell as if you were wanted or love, I’m sorry you hated yourself on rainy days when we all know the rainy days are the ones were you could release the years that have drowned you every night you fell asleep in your lonely bed without some asking why you were crying. But you know what.... there’s a boy... a boy you that holds you so tight in his arms no matter what, cause he see’s there’s still a brave soul in a body that was broken and scare of themselves but yet is still kissable because she still wears the smile of the girl who could walk in to any room and fill it with warmth. He see’s a girl that no matter how broken she is will wear her heart on her sleeve like is it a sash of pride. He see’s a girl how always fight for him, a girl that can not feel sorry for herself, that can look in the mirror and see the once fallen solider carrying themselves to safety in the arms of this boy because he’s willing to be the shield from yourself, he’s willing to take the bomb that is our feelings to ourself just to be okay with the love that he’s giving that we have been so scared to take. But finally, the boy has broken the bomb, for it has not caused an explosion of depression and regret, but explosion of happiness and exceptment for there the girl with the sorry eyes, is now sorry that she didn’t love sooner, cause this boy has shown her what she needed, a solider who was willing to carry another solider. To the girl with the sorry eyes..... your welcome to the boy who saved you, for he is rainbow in the sky on those rainy days.

As I am a haunted house. I walk the dark hallways, that show my past. With every creek in the floor is every tear I’ve ever shed. The screams you hear in the echoes of a ghosts, is the same ghosts that wish they had a wond like in Harry Potter to make the monsters stop screaming in pain at their faces. With the flickers of each level light shows you that I’m trying to unbury the things I’ve done, to bring the dead back to life but not help them take over the world, but to explain what I’ve done to make things right. With my haunted house, people look at it and run away for the baggage on the doorstep is to much for the eye. But really all I want is for someone to blow out the last candle that flickers I’m the night to put the dead of my darkest times to lay them to rest so I can feel at peace. But I lock my candle away cause I don’t want people being burnt by the flame that can be a wildfire. I am a haunted house, hear my screams, the creeks in the floors, they all tell a story, if you listen there is a soul that just wants to be set free.