Every night I spend alone knows your name.

I try to remember your promises;
you carried them in your back pockets.
And I think that if I were to check your
laundry,
I'd still find them waiting in your
shorts,
unfulfilled.

I try to remember what you looked like
the last time I saw you;
how her name was waiting on your lips,
hanging in the air between us
like a thread waiting to be cut.
I remember how you loved my body
and pitied my mind,
and fell asleep with the door open.

I walked home in the snow,
but it was warmer
than laying next to you.

She was the kind of lost that was unseen before
She was the kind of broken that's unfixable
She was the kind of beauty that's unfadable
She was the kind of love that was unforgettable

But her heart was cold as stone
Her truth were only lies
Her faithfulness was nonexistent and her love was false
But he couldn't stop
Deep down he knew it wasn't right
But there was something about her smile, her laugh and her touch...
That made it impossible to stop thinking about her, being with her, admiring her and loving her

It was painful, but necessary to feel alive
He couldn't breathe without her near
She had him on his knees, she had stripped him off his independence
To make him her needy wreck,
Filling the empty void in her heart
She loved the power and didn't care the cost
Her heart was made of stone
Stoning him alive
Until the day he dies
For all eternity

I watched as my heart was wrenched out of my body.
I watched as the blade twisted into my chest,
And punctured my lungs so I couldn’t breathe.

As the sword withdrew,
My heart spilled out and lay beating on the floor,
And she didn’t even carry a look that indicated the words:

“I’m sorry.”

'cause you let it go, now you're good to go.

The leeching color from my eyes
My parched mouth puckered
My joints are stiff, stubborn and brittle
Creaking like exhausted floorboards
Wringing my fists, white ands shriveled
Twisting my hands, skinned and raw
I'm ill with desperate thriving
Too weak to carry on, don't have the choice
Veins laden with liqueur, thinning hopes and regret
Pulsing pulsing pulsing
Bones fluttering with birds of bad omen
Scalp rid of hair to make place for the thorny crown of vanquishment
Blood diluted with bitter disappointment,
Sloshing, smearing through my mucked-up system
Aching from the deadly drone of existence
From small victories, large defeats
I'm the mortar, they're the pestle
Clobbering into my hollowed life.

The hammer of that thing
Routine so dull and tedious
Pounding and pounding and pounding
When you can't even scream or weep
Thud thud thud
My temples scream with dank submission
My brain is reeling, hurling from the vertigo of it all.

Morning, noon & night
The dead avenues, the empty buzzing
Beats hammers in my brain
Throb throb throb
I'm quivering with numbness.

I'm mature now, I'm ripe
So ripened and rotten
Adult things, adult preoccupations pulsing around me
It seems like person really only has two choices
Get in on the aimless hustle or be forsaken
I've taken it all up
Rent, coffee, wine, cigarettes and newspaper
Forgotten pills
Unpaid bills
Thump thump thump
Anguish, pain, woe and misery
Turbulence and stress, the banging hammer.

I'm a drunkard, a wanderer
With a beaten, battered suitcase
Days like these, weeks like these, when all the weapons are pointed at me
I'm a ***, an outcast
A pigeon in the pummeling rain
Dribble dribble splash
The ache is a relentless thing.

My job, my rent, my house
My walls limp with memories stuck with rotting glue
Wallpaper torn, curling at the edges
The cold hard floor radiates and screams
The couch, cold & hollow
Incrusted with bits of filthy grime
The dead radiator hisses like an angry snake
The shades down, no sunlight
No life seeping through the venetian blinds
And my clothing sits in the chairs
Like the dead emptied out
The blankets are thin, frayed and tattered
As hope is
The moths, on the other hand, are alive and well
They weave webs of moribund rot
Interlacing me into their strands of decay.

Surrounded by the coldhearted, they snarl
And their laughs abash, dishearten the pure
Bruising me relentlessly
They are so tired, mutilated
either by love or no love
All their bleak and sunken eyes
All their weak and drunken souls
All their meek and shrunken hearts
Vultures with neckties
Weasels in frocks
Collared beasts, that's all they are.

The mournful poet with the shrapnel wound
Was so wrong
I guess he wanted to be lyrical, but his words led astray
Time is not water
It does not flow easy, smooth and transparent
It drags you into dark alleys and batters the hell out of you
Punches you in the ribs, rips your skin,
Jerks you by your hair, stabs you, disfigures you
Leaves you crippled and broken, gasping for air.

Sweating in a rocker
Lanky skeleton hands clasped, praying- for what?
I'm not living, or dying
I'm simply crawling backward
Or no, I'm not crawling, I'm being dragged,
Through nights of lonely perfidy, breathing the beaten dusty air
The dark wind wailing, ebbing through the frail curtains
Laying in bed, too wretched to move
When memories, of heaven and hell,
Droop like broken shades
Across the window of my mind
And ****, I can feel my soul slowly dropping down through the mattress
My stomach is heaving, my teeth clenched and gritted
But not with fear, no, it's too late for dread
And it *****, because we realize we were all so caught up in a life in which we can find no meaning...we end up wrong and graceless and sick
We're born shriveled and alone, we die shriveled and alone
No matter what.

Yes, I do believe in something. I believe in being warmhearted. I believe especially in being warmhearted in love, in ******* with a warm heart. I believe if men could **** with warm hearts, and the women take it warmheartedly, everything would come all right. It’s all this coldhearted ******* that is death and idiocy. - D.H. Lawrence, Lady Chatterley’s Lover

***** dishes piled peripherally
Melting muscles begging to be built
Education egging me on evilly
Facebook friends warning I may wilt
Clothes choking roomish rubble
Coldhearted clocks click callously
Traffic tickets to trouble
Prodding for payment perniciously

The eyes of tearful past
Gaze upward, past small faces

I watch him
He begins to rise himself
Off the coldhearted bench
Gazing through the distance

Thoughts reoccur in his fading mind
He lays back down

Roaming, helpless and scarred
He lost himself in fear, and that alone

Links of steal and agony
They fall beneath earth's eye

What's left alone to pity
Has nothing, than to die

Tears of saddened hearts,
They are, but a target

The world, they are the darts
Piercing happiness, in the eye

He grazes, in weathered grass
Throughout a darkened tranceless state

Left to gather thoughts
Expected sadness, on the contrary

He is dead to the world
What are you

I don't know anything anymore.
I'm sick of this feeling and im sick of you.
If you ever call me another cutesy nickname
i will punch you in the face

If you ever try to come back after you realize no one will ever love you like i have,
i will slam the door
Don't even think about bringing up old inside jokes,
i will have forgotten them by then, ive already began to

Forget about trying to fix things cuz you know we're meant to be together,
you can only try to fix something so many times until its completely broken.

You're insane if you think we get past this,
even if i do forgive there will be no forgetting
Don't bother saying "i miss you"
because all i've been doing is running away, i can't wait to move away from you

But the worst thing you could possibly say is " i love you"
because im not completely sure yet if this wall i'm trying to build against you will still be standing.
As much as i wish you could be standing on my porch right now on your knees, my door's been open too long and the best thing for me is to turn the lock.

I'm done standing around waiting for this miracle that will never happen.
"Love is like glass, sometimes it is better to leave it in pieces rather than trying to put it back together"
There is a line between being friends and always being there for you.
It is a fine line, but a line none the less.
You drew it with an ink of lies and coldhearted decisions.

Stay up late and write
I'm the freedom writer
Everyday it gets easy to say
Everything you wish you could
You think it's coldhearted
but needed to be said
I keep you away out of my head
I don't get close that's my only choice
Writing has become my voice
I show respect treated like a reject
Went my way because of detours
Crossing paths another roadblock
This time not giving up my way

like the rubble of an old house
that had burnt down and left me for dead,
and I'd survived.

Drunk, weeks ago,
you said

"Whatever happens we're best friends"

your hugs felt familiar,
like home but I was wary.

I went from loving you endlessly,
young girl with an innocent pain
to coldhearted, callous

"She must of loved him blind, that she needed
to replace him with all those boys."

That was the smartest thing the boy
with straight A's in my physics class
had ever said.

Take something as simple as grains of sand,
Look at it if you can,
Picture it if you must,
Now, understand that your life IS revolving around these insignificant, ugly,
Things.
Lemme ask you something
Is it beautiful to you?
Because when everything’s beautiful
Everything means something.
It’s quite the opposite for me.
What’s whirling around me is not for the faint of heart.
You may think you’re prepared but you honestly
Aren’t.
Under this pale, freckled covered skin and heavy, hair matched, eyes is a dull dying soul.
Living with a severed heart. What was once carefully mended from the past broken road.
So…
I see you’ve made a fool of me, yet again.
Does my sheltered being tickle your funny bone?
Give you that…ya know
Painful laughter. As if inside you is screaming
“How could I be hurting the one I claimed to have loved?!” I was your happy, I was your crazy, I was your
Beautiful.
You had your lame, unacceptable, pathetic, coldhearted, mean, conniving reasons. Don’t worry I understand. But I am no longer the little girl from your memories, so stop living in them…it intervenes from the
Now.

And now, thing’s aren’t so beautiful.

You think it won't happen, but it does
The sinking feeling, the gutless entry and
You are left to fend for promises that you never
Intended to keep in the first place
I am coldhearted and alone and deserve nothing more
Then to rot here, or there, somewhere
Where your eyes won't follow my every move
And when I will finally fall to my knees
And cry and beg, and bleed and bleed until sore
I will still not understand the price for my sins
As he taunts and teases, pulls and prods
At my long ago innocence, I will falter
To be the girl He intended me to be
Too late and too little devotion to matters of the
Heart, the soul, the in between space
And I am wasted and shedding the wrong skin
Parts that should have been kept floating off into space

Amazing grace, how sweet the sound
that saves a wretch like me
one so undeserving of the love
that is brought upon me.

I once was lost
in a coldhearted rage
for the world around me
appeared to be so against me.

But now I'm found
I am in love with life
because You showed me
that all is possible.

I was blind but now I see
I see the glory in all that life is,
all of it's ups and downs
and I see I will always be promised eternal days.

Am I such a cold cruel creature
Ice the core of all my features
You think my frigid heart not whole
Yes, someone said I have no soul

Some are quick to sling torment
So full of hate and malcontent
Of my essence you've no control
Yes, someone said I have no soul

So on this lonely moonlit night
These frenzied thoughts I won't ignite
Firmly rooted no unpaid toll
Yes, someone said I have no soul

Am I such a cold cruel creature
Yes, someone said I have no soul

My spirit stands upon firm ground
My love for others is unbound
My heart is full my heart is whole
Yes, someone said I have no soul

It's you that I take pity on
Flogging others with your baton
Coldhearted jabs will take their toll
Yes, someone said I have no soul

One harsh day you will glance around
And find your gardens been cut down
Where once stood friends now just a hole
Yes, someone said I have no soul

My spirit stands upon firm ground
Yes, someone said I have no soul

I walked into a room where you were
And my pride kept me from hightailing
It out of the room and running until
My legs burned with lactic acid.
You spoke to me but the words fell on dull ears.
You looked at me but I kept my walls up
Such that in my head I was invisible.
I had done so well protecting myself,
Staying away from the places you frequented,
Not spending time with the people you call friends
Even though they were my friends first.
And then today all my efforts became
Void, vain, utterly useless,
For there I was inwardly crumbling
The broken-then-stitched-back-together
Fragments of my heart
Between proverbial coldhearted fingers.
My jaw is as set as my will: like flintstone,
Cold, hard, and steeled.
You may once have had a hold on me,
Affected me, impacted me,
But today, you are nobody.

Caress my coldhearted expectations
forget who made them that way.
To use more than I ever possess
for you, and only for you.

Darling, i've figured out
how to make use of whats broken.
If you want I can show you how..
break free from this empty house.

You're too familiar with being left behind
you're numb so you don't seem to mind.
A secret between you and I, my love
for you, and only for you:

I've seen who you really are,
you're broken but not too far.
In life all you really need
is who needs you back;
thats me.

Darling, i've figured out
how to make use of whats broken.
If you want I can show you how..
break free from this empty house.

Dear Friend,

If thats really what you are... Can I still call you that? I'd very much hate to do so.

Thank you
Thank you* for treating me so deservingly with your coldhearted, excuse ridden backstabbing attitude. It means the world to me that you would destroy the little happiness that had built up over the past couple of days.
Life is hard right now, all I need is people there for me and supporting me and keeping me distracted and happy, but
Thank you
Thank you for treating me like trash, like I am nothing, and like you cant talk to me cause youre "afraid to hurt and upset" me again.
You seem to be doing a fine job of that already.

*Thanks for nothing,
Me.

I tend to have a deep endearment and emotional intrest in coldhearted people, i see good in them, and i want to develope a relationship with them, i fall inlove with what i know they can be, i want to be there for them and see what there about, i have this huge thing for ******* type people, but sometimes when you play with fire, theres a great possibility you will get burned.

The world will tattoo your secrets
Onto the palms of your hands
To teach you
To sleep with fists closed
And to never show anyone
What you hold in your hands
It is to teach you
Sleight of hand
It is to teach you
How to hide in plain sight.

The world will carve your regrets
Onto the inside of your eyelids
So every time
You close your eyes,
Everything you need
To just forget is
Burning bright and fierce in your face.
It is to teach you
To keep your eyes open
It is to teach you
How to never even blink.

The world will stamp your mistakes
Onto your tongue
To teach you
To keep your mouth shut
And to always think before you speak
It is to teach you
The power of words
It is to teach you
How to choose your words carefully.

The world will write your weaknesses
On the walls of your heart
So every time
You let someone
Steal it and break it,
Your flaws all spill out
On the ground for everyone to see.
It is to teach you
To be coldhearted and cautious
It is to teach you
How to keep your heart safe.

The world will graft wings
Onto your ankles
To teach you
When to run away
And when to stand your ground.
It is to teach you
speed;
It is to teach you
How to escape.

The world will brand road maps
Onto the soles of your feet
So every time
You’re looking for
A way out (or in),
your feet already know the way there.
It is to teach you
direction
It is to teach you
How to navigate the world.

By the time
the world is done with you,
It will have left its marks.
Wear these marks
Not with shame,
But pride,
As I have failed to do.

Does refusing to drown in my emotions
Make me a coldhearted person?
Just a body floating along
Pushing away anyone that might pull me down
Only the good people sink

immutable silence induced
bombardment caused by
birth of a ghost punctually
derived from fresh air
with no emotion or sympathy
dead sensitivity parted lips
yellow eyes staring
back at us brought about
soil rising in magnetic induction
eclectic charges polarized
currents shifted spirit width
ram nizzle threshold nicked
blowing with the wind Niz
blessed peace upon him
bright phoenix wings
extend beyond lenses
above a star shining
wide owl rings protrude
subatomic grime regarded
sewn in fabric of humanity
testifying coldhearted
exemplar charisma donated
hidden aspects of demeanor
derive lives of love deprived
occupy truth in dreams
until kingdom come
nightmares relieved taking
there place revelation revealed
in benediction bleeding out
chests shattered by the light

I am the villain,
the coldhearted canyon
killer who cut
Atlas’ Achilles tendon
causing the sky to crumble
and crush the falsely humble.

I am rage working its way
from a red froth foaming
in the cold glowing bay,
choppy waters which
reflect star light
that is too far away
and already dead.

I am not the hero
of this narrative
because all that
I have to give
is destruction
in the form of
my careful criticism
of this corrupt system.
I smile, hoping
my wise words will
blasts this system’s foundation
and clear the clutter
to build something better.

I am the truth barer,
sunlight sharer
in a world
happy with its shadows.

I am a vicious striker and slicer,
mean bust mostly nicer
than I should be
as the bad guy of humanity.

We all want to be the hero
of our little fairytale,
but I know
better than to fool myself,
because if the genocidal politicians
the vile ******* preachers,
the violent sports stars,
the murderous soldiers,
and the greedy businessmen
are your definition
of the ubermensch
apex of the patriarchal
hierarchy….

Then to you as to them
I am anarchy
builder and destroyer
of abstract constructs
that control us
and the ultimate terrorist/freedom fighter
because I am a truth writer.

A response is what he needed
To rest serenely
Strong-minded as if
He called her constantly,
Texted ceaselessly
Formulated a poem
To portray what he discerned
Desiring to identify her
"Tell me your name so I can
thank you how you deserve."

Her sight wandered all over her dorm
Was she really thinking of
Unveiling her storm?

Her lips arched straight-up
"There's nothing to lose"
Is what she naively thought

Her name now appearing on screen
Along with her heart, mind and peace
She knew it was the end
To a never being fairy dream

"A friend would of been great back then"
Who said there's nothing
We can do nowadays
Now her secret is out
Million questions pending

He knows her name now
The shield is now below her vow
He seemed thrilled at first
He's no longer captivated
He didn't like what it displayed

"Thank you for the poem"
That's all he said

No more texts were sent
He used to reply without saying mer
Now he's no longer immediate

Nodding he lowered his sight
Deciding not to move forward
But to leave all this situation burried
Along with her light

He ached to find someone who cared
She was available at all hours of the day
What made him so blind
What prevented him to realize
She was someone to confide

She didn't shed a single tear
She knew there were risks
Not a propitious ending
But at least she now knows
He wasn't worth it

Outlasting her thoughts
She pursued a goodbye
Their houses not being faraway
She requested a meeting to amalgamate

Unbiased to encounter his neighbor
He elected to party out
She waited for him all night
Counted every single star
Drank her pain aside
Until her stinging expired

She can now move on
She is now determined
She now knows affection isn't eternal
Closing her eyes she guaranteed
Never letting her feelings
Slip off her finger tips
She's not allowing anybody into
Her now **coldhearted spirit

Someone told me if I can't have you
No one can
Another told me if you love it
Set it free
There is a fair line between love and obsession
Love can cause pain to both like wrapping a cut in cloth
It bleeds and leeches you try as slow as a sloth
It brings you joy
Maybe I should stop playing coy
Obsession it causes pain to one or to both
Hurts so much that you deprive the other
Like a malnourished calf drinking from and utter
Maybe i should just close the shutters
Because if these were the two emotions I felt
I would lash myself with a belt
Love brings Pain
Pain brings Hate
And hate creates a coldhearted individual
But obsession brings pain
And that pain brings pleasure for one person
And if constantly done
Like how a clock strikes one
The spent time
Would make pain a crime

Every year about 800 000 people lose the constant war they have with themself. A stranger to you, someone who meant nothing, but that someone once was somebody else's everything.

Our mental illnesses and disorders have been so overly glorified and romanticized in today’s media, music, and social media. It has become desirable and trendy, and it’s making me sick.
Our problems weren’t discovered, closely studied, monitored, and used to give us an answer to the questions why, when, and how, just for some teens to use it as a way to evoke shame and make fun of someone.
There are over 171, 476 words used in the English language, 10,000 adjectives, 2,123 adverbs, 46 conjunctions, 77 interjections, 17,450 nouns, 26 particles, 39 prepositions, 17 pronouns, and 5,986 verbs. I bet there are a bunch of other adjectives to call your friend when they “go crazy”.
So please stop using our chemical imbalances and the result of years of traumas because you need to feel unique.

No, we aren’t okay with you using our pain and struggles as a way for you to feel edgy and special.
“I Am NoT lIkE oThEr GiRlS” No, you are lying to yourself and
others by faking and exaggerating your anxiety and your depression because it’s “SO ROMANTIC WHEN A BOY SAVES YOU”.

But truth be told;
Kissing your partner's scars isn’t adorable.
Saving someone from a suicide attempt doesn’t make you a brave hero.
Anxiety disorders don’t transform you into a poor struggling soul needing someone to save you.
Depression never turned me into a misunderstood beautiful flower, someone who’s fragile and needs protection.
Bipolar disorder is so extremely much more than “just mood swings”;
When I have a manic episode it doesn’t mean I am suddenly super productive.
Dealing with Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) is not “so cool or so crazy” it’s best explained as living in an unpredictable nightmare, but you can not wake up.
Being paranoid is not cool, you are in a constant fight or flight mode, and you are thinking something bad will happen any second.
Having Anorexia is not the same thing as just skipping breakfast one morning.
Attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) is not a “gift or superpower” you suddenly wanted to give to yourself with no right to do so.
Having social anxiety is not quirky, it’s debilitating.
Succeeding or failing a Suicide attempt won’t make all of your bullies suddenly stop being bullies and make them feel guilty.
Obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD) is not the same as liking it when things are organized.
Bulimia is not a diagnosis you should aspire to get, you won’t turn into a beautiful thin person, you will turn into a dying mentally unstable wreck.
Being diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) doesn’t equal not knowing how to make friends and enjoying being alone.
No, You don’t have Tourette Syndrome (TS), I have never heard of a TS type where you only have trouble with “vocal tics” when someone is not doing what you ask them to. You simply just lack manners and have no idea how to read a room, your parents failed to turn you into a decent human being and you just don’t feel like working on it.
Insomnia is a lot more than staying up 1 out of 7 days a week because you “did not feel tired and was too bored to stay in bed”.
Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome (PTSD) is not ******* easy to live with and doesn’t mean you are weak.
My daddy issues are not **** or make me a freak in bed.                          
Schizophrenia and other psychotic disorders are not “Only hearing and seeing things”.
Antisocial Personality Disorder (ASPD) doesn’t mean someone is coldhearted and evil.
Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID) is not the same as having different personalities with different friend groups.
Addicts are not weak, dumb, or “only have themself to blame.”
Being burned out doesn’t equal you thinking school or work is boring.

To even get evaluated we often have to fight for years until we find a psychiatrist who takes us seriously. Some of us find ourselves dumbfounded by the answers to the questions we have had to deal with for years and stuff we thought everyone dealt with.
Others are not that lucky and have to do most of the work themself, they find out what is wrong after thoroughly reading every article on PubMed, MedScape, and WebMD they can find. Because, honestly, psychiatrists do **** sometimes.

Society has been fetishizing our mental illnesses and disorders for way too long.
You see my crazy as **** and desired until my crazy pops up out of thin air and ends with wounds, blood, traumas, antipsychotics, and paramedics.
We get belittled, invalidated, and have our symptoms dulled down because people get off to them.
I am not your manic pixie dream girl or your Harley Quinn.
If the “type” of people you get attracted to is mentally unstable girls with daddy issues, a chemical imbalance, and a lack of impulse control, you are a part of the problem.

Also, Meghan Markle won’t see the embarrassing Facebook posts you write about how you don't believe she was “really suicidal and only wanted attention”, but your suicidal friends will.

You know who’s not laughing at your jokes about how people who died or were lucky enough to survive their suicide attempt are weak and how they “took the easy way out”? Your best friend who’s barely holding on, or maybe it’s your little sister tempted by the bottle of pills in her hand, or maybe, just maybe, it’s your lover who locked themself in the bathroom and is currently gasping for air on the cold tile floor because they would rather go through their panic attack completely alone than having to ask for your help. Is your joke still funny?

We are asked: “have you ever considered how your mental illness makes ME feel? How much you are hurting me?
And yes we have. We worry about that every single day of our life. And every single hour we spend awake we are overwhelmed with the feeling that our loved ones would be so much better off if we just died, but thank you, from the bottom of our hearts for your contribution. There is nothing we love more than being reminded of how much of a burden we are.

I swear we aren’t monsters. The friends I have who are dealing with mental illnesses are some of the kindest, most selfless, and caring people I have ever had the fortune to meet. We have nothing in common except for our serotonin deficiency and we bond through our traumas.
We try our hardest to heal other broken people because we know what rock bottom feels like.
We calm them down and distract them from the breathtaking panic attacks and overpowering suicidal thoughts visiting them at 3 am, because we all know way too well how easy it is to slip in and out of your head, and how it feels to lose touch with reality.
We stay up throughout the night to keep each other safe and breathing because deep down we are all just a bunch of suicidal kids telling other suicidal kids that suicide isn’t the answer.
We check-in and remind each other to eat, take our meds and stay hydrated.
We repeatedly prove the voices in our friends' heads wrong, while we listen blindly to our own demons believing every cruel and damaging lie they feed us.
We are lost kids looking for someone to call our own and somewhere to call home.
We were all raised being told by either our mom or dad or some other adult to not talk to strangers online, because they are dangerous, and they would ruin our lives.
But my mom and dad couldn’t have been more wrong, because when I met strangers online, I didn’t find danger, I found a family.
I have felt love stronger than anything you will ever experience in your life.
We love like we have nothing to lose because we truly have nothing to lose.
We have each other’s backs and we proved that family doesn’t have to be blood.
I am forever grateful towards the ones who stuck around, and to the new ones that life brought to me. The ones who have seen me relapse probably a thousand times but never lost hope, and the ones who were never meant to stay forever. I will always have you back.

What I am trying to tell you with all of this is that we are all fighting for dear life to survive, some of us are so close to falling off the deep end all they need is one small event to tip over, and then we have those who lost their battle, who are gone but never forgotten, taken from us along the road to the place we are today, those the sickness quickly and carelessly took from us, and at the same time robbed the world of the most beautiful people we have ever met.
The world wasn’t ready for you yet,
Alexa