I no longer breathe, yet I still write.

'Cause when you cry in a cemetery,
No one dares to ask why.
So, you cry,
Until you stop asking yourself why.

At age six, my mother told me that dancing is not really for me. The ballerina in me died that day.

Age eight, I was told by my uncle that I shouldn't sing for other people. I never hummed eversince.

I held a guitar at age twelve, my brother told me "have you forgotten you can't sing?"

I  look like eight-shattered-dreams.

I trust that we know better now.
Break the cycle.

You're not slitting your wrist,
But you are careless with your life.

Don't you think the two are the same thing?

Live, for just one more day.

I wanted to send a picture of the sky tonight.
Cause I missed saying "look, how pretty!"
-  I miss saying those words to you.

But I didn't.
Even when the sky reminded me of you,
You no longer need to know.

And I miss you.

I'm a Libra, and I like rain.

Most times when I am asked why, I snap and say why not.

But really, it was raining the first time my mom trusted me to go to the grocery store alone. I got a banana and I was proud.

There was a storm when my mom decided to let us sleep in, miss school and cook us breakfast for the first time.

A thunderstorm echoed our neighborhood as my mom and I danced through radio and static. The outside was gloomy but we were happy.

So, when you ask me one more time why I like rain so much, I'd say just cause.

I never thought, I would crave a simple hello this much.

If you were mine, I don't know what I'd do,
But I'd do it.