If I can’t wait to die
Then why not bring death to me

Well, what’s the point of dying
If you don’t try to live

Don’t forget the day Death died

It was horrifying
But slightly mystifying
But mostly terrifying
Because he was dying

The demons started to cry
And they screamed so loud, oh my
We all knew He had to die
Nobody wanted to sigh

It was odd to hear His last breath
Because He was Death
It was a long time ago:
When it was fashion to speak with ‘thee’, ‘thou’, and ‘eth’

Chills ran through my head
Because the thing I feared was dead
And no longer under my bed

There was no longer a corpse party
In this empty city
Our minds became faulty
The only thing that lingered was nobody

We always remember the day Death died
And how nobody felt tied
All our brains were fried
From seeing the world’s cracking hide

Pain is an illusion that our minds create
There is no way to describe pain
Without saying another form of it
This emotion
This poison
It’s all in our heads
Created to make us feel vulnerable

I can’t remember when I gathered these thoughts
It was sometime when I was sadder than I am now
When I was a little bit more lost than I ever was
Was it last year or the year before?

It squeaked about my grandmother
And about what I write
I wrote it out of rage and sadness
Something about my depression that created my addiction
It was in a September or an October?

I walked slower then
Kept my head down lower then
I never want to think about the pain I had been in
I can’t quite remember
But I wrote with passion and grace

It was unstrung thoughts
Words that will always come from the mind’s eyes
If only I could remember

I thought about things then as I do now
The world always brought people down after it made them high
I had been so low
I am only now slowing climbing back up

When I wrote it was all slow and fast
Both at the same time
I want to remember
Something tells me I never will
Why do I think it was on a Tuesday?

It was a short paragraph
Maybe about my first hurrah
Or my last farewell

For as long as I can remember, people have always said to me: "Life isn't fair."

What a lie

Life is as fair as you want it

The truth is, people aren't fair

People affect the way you act and think

They tell you things you should and should not do

But I can wear jeans in the summertime

And that boy can wear pink if he wants

The girl who just walked by can wear shorts at any length she feels comfortable

We can do this

Even if you call us insecure or gay or ****

We will because we don't care what the herd of sheep thinks

We can be goats and cows and foxes

Because we think 'the norm' is crazy

The roses are ******
The violets are too
People have died
Because that’s what people do