"thirdly" poems
The seeds of truth and love and light are scattered all around
Some among thorns and rocks or on the path, but some will find good ground
These are the conditions in which our souls can be found
Those among rocky soil are shallow and cannot take hold
When the heat is on in life they wither truth be told
And at times it seems they act distant mechanical and cold
Amidst the thorns and weeds the souls that fall
Find their deaths in the earthly siren’s call
Thirdly they that fall on hardened soil build up a rugged wall
Response to pain or suffering one creates a shield
For fear of getting hurt again but needing to be healed
Difficult to break through or down to deliver truth revealed
Finally the soul that falls on fertile soil and grows deep root
Healthy and pure they bear plentiful and beautiful fruit
This can be our destiny and our lives can follow suit
At different times in our life our souls can be
Any one of the soul’s soils you see
But we can choose and act any of these
So let us strive without end to find good soil not to break but to bend
Not to weaken but to heal not to tear but mend and seal
Set your seal upon us Lord and help us have the strength and grace
Sign your name upon our hearts as we sign ourselves with the father son and holy spirit
Deliver us from temptation and sin to your heart Oh Lord and we pray for our soul’s deliverance
AMEN
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 12:23 AM UTC
That night your great guns, unawares,
Shook all our coffins as we lay,
And broke the chancel window-squares,
We thought it was the Judgement-day
And sat upright. While drearisome
Arose the howl of wakened hounds:
The mouse let fall the altar-crumb,
The worm drew back into the mounds,
The glebe cow drooled. Till God cried, “No;
It’s gunnery practice out at sea
Just as before you went below;
The world is as it used to be:
“All nations striving strong to make
Red war yet redder. Mad as hatters
They do no more for Christés sake
Than you who are helpless in such matters.
“That this is not the judgment-hour
For some of them’s a blessed thing,
For if it were they’d have to scour
Hell’s floor for so much threatening. . . .
“Ha, ha. It will be warmer when
I blow the trumpet (if indeed
I ever do; for you are men,
And rest eternal sorely need).”
So down we lay again. “I wonder,
Will the world ever saner be,”
Said one, “than when He sent us under
In our indifferent century!”
And many a skeleton shook his head.
“Instead of preaching forty year,”
My neighbour Parson Thirdly said,
“I wish I had stuck to pipes and beer.”
Again the guns disturbed the hour,
Roaring their readiness to avenge,
As far inland as Stourton Tower,
And Camelot, and starlit Stonehenge.
2.5k
broken promises and chapped lips,
taste of rebellion and tears shed from missing home.
when I think back on the 20th year of my life all of these things and more come to mind.
what a year it has been, I can barely recognize myself when I first turned 20.
how was I to know this year would take me on such a crazy ride marked by a few major things.
first off-the dingy carnival lights that glistened in his deceiving blue eyes.
lesson learned: people will say and do anything for certain things that most certainly aren't in your best interest.
secondly- the harsh realization of what it really feels like to be all alone (independence is hard)
lesson learned: you never are truly all alone; even if physically nobody else is around, loved ones are only a call/text away to cure the feeling.
thirdly- it's hard sometimes, real real hard to love yourself when you feel as though people from your past have suggested that you're essentially impossible to like, let alone love.
lesson learned: when you are unsure of your own worth your heart often stumbles into the wrong hands which isn't your fault BUT with the right amount of self love- your heart will not fall or stumble but will be placed in the right hands. (I promise)
and lastly-
I learned that life stops for nobody.
It's ok to dance like a complete fool and if people judge, then cool.
we aren't going to be around forever
and essentially people's opinions
are little blips of information that
mean nothing.
i'm sure I'll forget this advice a few times once I turn 21 and onward,
which is why I've written this poem.
(Happy 21st to me- stay strong)
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 10:44 AM UTC
I came to know more about myself.
Even I do dislike things to the extent of hating them.
Yes I hate thieves who steal either materialistic things or immaterial stuff.
Firstly I hate thieves of music,
Then I hate thieves of identity,
Thirdly I hate thieves of poetry,
Of course I hate thieves of art,
Lastly I hate thieves of all kind.
Now there's a duo of music thieves in the Indian subcontinent.
One steals music and the other sings the songs on stolen music.
The singer rose to fame by stealing few wonderful songs from a music band's first album.
I hate them both.
I dislike such people who listen to them and I can't be with them.
Call me crazy, but that's me.
Sep 10, 2014
Sep 10, 2014 at 3:55 AM UTC
#*One thinks on Calvin heav’n’s own spirit fell;
Another deems him instrument of hell;
If Calvin feel heav’n’s blessing, or its rod,
This cries there is, and that, there is no God.*
Alexander Pope
A transcendental tulip
is blooming in my garden.
Before the petals wither,
before affections harden,
I pray it may diffuse its scent –
so gloriously redolent.
Encouraging the faithful,
it blooms in any weather.
In sunshine or in shadow;
let us, elect, together,
enjoy its sanctifying smell
While warning careless souls of hell.
In Him we stroke the petal
That proves our own depravity
The flower that declares our heart
apart from Christ, a cavity
where only evil may be found
by One who dares our depths to sound.
The second petal beckons
and sings of pure election;
where souls are freely chosen
by God’s divine selection.
(As yet not offered to the masses –
Unto whom His wrath now passes).
Thirdly shines the Limit
of Christ in His atonement:
benefits are thus withheld
in God’s eternal moment.
So let the worldling rant and bluster;
Raging will not dim the luster…
Fourth: shall the fallen Adam
hold out against omniscience?
Will puny human being
Prevail in disobedience?
The Lord on high will hound you down –
His grace to place a golden crown.
Point five unfurls its essence;
as saints arise, and striving
shake off the dust and onward march –
though never quite arriving;
while God empowers to go the distance
Persevering with insistence.
Behold in full the blossom!
In Grace it shines, reflecting;
delighting in God’s wisdom,
the lead to gold perfecting;
Magnanimous floral alchemy
bestowing at last true liberty.
Sep 12, 2015
Sep 12, 2015 at 9:23 AM UTC
This is how you write a poem;
First; forget everything
You ever learnt about poems,
Such knowledge should be reserved
For the minds of critics, and
Professors in dusty halls
Of universities, where
They are dissected and re-
Constructed against their will.
Second; embroil yourself in
Love; it is the only thing
That poetry is born from.
Even the saddest songs, and
Most bitter lines, are fueled
By what we once loved. Loss is
Just a love that has been lost
And anger; a love scorned. All
your words will be born this way.
Thirdly; find a quiet spot;
It doesn't matter much where
As long as it brings comfort,
Be it an old desk in a
Darkened room, or a field of
tall Sunflowers or bluebells,
Or the last place you saw a
Loved one, before fate swept them
Away to distant valleys.
Next you must make a promise to
Yourself to be brutally
Honest. Only the truth must
Be written here. There is no
Room for flowery words that
Must be thought over to much.
If it is true it will be
Beautiful, and your pen strokes
Will guide you towards greatness.
Finally, you must hold your
Writing implement of choice
As if it were the most loved
Of possesions, or mighty
Of weapons, or a child's hand.
I cannot tell you which
But you will undoubtedly
Know which when the time comes. It
Will strike you as obvious.
Upon following these steps
You will have become a
poet. From now on there
Is no turning back. It will
Consume you, and thoughts will take
You by surprise in lover's
Embraces, in sudden deaths,
Bird songs, and the words of of those
You once thought to be strangers.
Each word will be a gift to
The world, whilst remaining un-
doubtedly yours to own.
Use your power wisely.
Remember; without love
Your poems will start to
Fall into disrepair
And, without them you will
Lose your capacity to care.
I wish you well.
I wish you poetry.
I wish you love.
Apr 6, 2016
Apr 6, 2016 at 5:49 PM UTC
******
I can't get this together.
Everything is falling apart.
Life is losing its meaning and I can't fix it.
******
Time is truly against me and I can't change it.
I'm losing it. I'm losing it.
........ I can't get it.
I lost. I'm utterly defeated.
I'm done. I'm through. This world is just going to spit me up.
I already know it.
I'm alone on this.
I might as well leave everyone.
Whoa there sparky.
Time to calm yourself.
Firstly, breathe.
You can do this.
You have everything and I mean EVERYTHING you need.
All the resources and equipment are sitting in front of you.
Your life, is just at a fork in the road.
Like Robert Frost, "Take the road less traveled by. It'll make all the difference."
Secondly, grab a Coke from the fridge, eat an apple, watch a movie.
You've been through worse remember?
The world is trying to break you.
It's done it before, but never again.
You made a promise to yourself remember?
You were going to seize all opportunities and stop half-assing everything.
THIS IS ONE OF THOSE OPPORTUNITIES!
Do not back down! Not on this.
Grab the world by its ear and yank until it submits.
You! Got! This!
Thirdly and most importantly,
Be patient.
All of these things that you do have a way of working out.
You've noticed it. I know you have.
Be patient with yourself.
You are your own worst enemy.
And you know who's stronger.
It's time to do this.
Get up, breathe, get creative.
Time is nothing now.
It will come to your side when you're winning.
Hey bro........ it's time.
Oct 12, 2013
Oct 12, 2013 at 12:46 AM UTC
Firstly, forget all those people who only criticize you;
Coz their faces are ugly,
And their butts are fat!
Secondly, forget all those people who just jeer about you;
Coz their voices resemble howls of hyenas,
And their faces are as though bowels of pigs!!
Thirdly, stop hating yourself & just counting your drawbacks;
Coz until you don't work upon them,
And don't make them vanish you can't love yourself!!!
Jun 14, 2013
Jun 14, 2013 at 8:40 PM UTC
I have run down
broken stairs,
I have twisted
inside
twisted showers,
bent backwards
on five-fingered clocks,
in the fray
I rumbled
with a spider
of a woman
as she crawled on eight legs
over my sternum
to my lips,
at the top of the bridge of the world,
the world
turned
rightside
up
and the sky
was peopled by
clouds the size
of goldfish,
and the sun
was a dappling bowl
in which people put their
hands
to wash them of pain,
and so the world was all right,
but I couldn't handle
so much happiness,
none of the other
fish
looked like you,
even as I looked up
out of my
apartment
made of jenga blocks,
so I travelled back down
the twisted
showers,
broken
stairs,
and over the underbelly
of the bridge,
until I held you in my arms;
your tiny body
whole to me again,
I could touch the sky
when I touched your body
and told you to call me
whenever you needed me,
but you walked away,
and so I returned
to that hell
of perfection.
I hate living in the sky,
the ocean where the fish
look all the same
and there are no real clouds
to speak of.
I hate taking twisted showers,
and rumbling with spider-women,
I hate bridges that bridge
worlds.
Firstly, I hate love,
Secondly, I hate heartbreak,
Thirdly, I can't live without those two things.
Mar 1, 2012
Mar 1, 2012 at 8:50 AM UTC
Let me begin by claiming ignorance
Secondly, your voice pierces,
Steadily but bluntly
Like the tools of Australopithecus
Thirdly, I have other things to do
Fourthly, you’ll find out what it’s like to disappoint
and be disappointed
Fifthly, five fingers I have,
five of which are for his esophagus,
five of which are for you,
and five are for me.
Five times over,
fifth times a charm,
Five times over.
Nov 28, 2011
Nov 28, 2011 at 6:12 AM UTC
I love children.
Okay let me rephrase that:
I love children that aren't mine.
I have abso-positively-fucking-lutey no responsibilities attached to them.
They didn't leave my body completely wrecked.
They don't look at me and call me "momma"
or any other variation of the name
and I love that
because frankly,
children scare me.
Okay let me rephrase that:
The idea of ruining a child's life scares me.
First off:
I wouldn't think my newborn child is beautiful.
Newborns look like potatoes and I don't particularly find potatoes attractive.
Secondly:
They'd have a name that haunts them in their sleep.
I named my dog Legolas after gorgeous Orlando Bloom in Lord of the Rings so don't try me.
**I will name them Harry ******* Potter without batting an eyelash.**
Thirdly:
I will be brutally honest with them.
When they ask me why the sky is blue,
I will say that I don't know.
I didn't pay attention enough in school to know.
When they ask me why some boys kiss boys,
I will say that it's perfectly normal.
Mommy probably kissed some girls and boys at some point in her life.
When they ask me why the little girl in their 2nd grade class comes to school with
bruises on her arms,
with her hair in two pigtails,
a smile on her lips,
but fear, loneliness, and heartbreak in her eyes,
I will say that some people in this world don't deserve Angels.
They don't deserve to be alive at all.
When they ask me why they don't ever see their great aunt Perla,
but hear her name whispered at family events,
I will tell them to ask the little girl in their 2nd grade class.
Fourthly:
They will learn to clean house, top to bottom,
The way my momma taught me.
They will hate it.
Then they will hate that they love it.
Fifthly:
I will argue with them every step of the way until they can learn to hold their own.
But until then,
No, you may not have $60 to go shopping.
Unless you're buying books or music.
Then you can have $100.
Lastly:
I will teach them to love.
My love for them will be overbearing, smothering, and unwavering.
This is how they will love their children.
But when they finally ask me what love is,
I will smile,
bittersweetly,
and say that love is...
Love is drowning in the ocean,
gasping for air that never quite reaches your lungs,
but when it does,
it hurts
because water doesn't belong in your lungs.
You can't help breathing the water in, however.
You just want it.
Want something to fill you, to overwhelm you.
Love is repeating this, over and over until one day,
the breathing
doesn't hurt anymore.
There is no more water in your lungs.
Just air.
There is water still, all around you,
but you are not drowning anymore.
You're swimming.
You, my dear, sweet, beautiful, hypothetical child,
are swimming!
which is something that I have yet to do.
Jul 21, 2015
Jul 21, 2015 at 12:35 AM UTC
first a ball
of raging fire
brought to a calm
as it quickly retires
down through the sky
all too soon
and as the morning sprouts from night
sunset sprouts from the afternoon.
next a river
ripples of colour
pink and purple
violet and sapphire
the birds are flying
singing their farewells
their songs like the angels
or songs like a bell
thirdly a glow
a sun behind cloud
don’t worry there’ll be a day
where He’ll be renowned
King of the sky
and heavens above
right now we’ll await Him
accompanied by His dove
lastly, breathe out
the darkness has come
the age is relentless
yet bearable to some
we hold on for longer
and pray for more stars
to light up our night sky
as we await the trumpets, hurrah !
Sep 19, 2024
Sep 19, 2024 at 9:21 AM UTC
I promised myself I'd address this with
you two but is been burdening me and messing with my head
so we go any further and before another day decides to pass
I'm going to write this down before I end up brain dead.
You're my parents, you birthed me and I love and respect you both
but the pressure you put me under is causing me to choke
I don't know how much longer I can take living under this yoke
First off and with all due respect,
I'm not my siblings or my cousins, and I know I'm not what you must've guessed
would arrive on this earth, and I know you do and have done your best
to raise me right, but I see that's one thing you forget.
Second, please pick a consistent tone.
I want to grow up but clearly you don't want me on my own.
I know I'll always be that curly headed little kid, and I'm trying to grow up but there's only so much I can do no matter what either of you did.
Thirdly, mom, I have trouble sleeping at night because of all of this, so when I do wake you up I am sorry it's nervous energy that causes it.
I keep trying to sleep then wonder
Will I ever get my life together or am I just another burden another life ripped asunder?
I hate that I even had to write this but I had to get this off of my chest,
I know you both love me and want nothing but the best,
but I couldn't find a way to communicate these problems I'm facing without coming off as issuing disrespect.
so if I'm you're biggest disappointment I'm sorry, that's just maybe what I'm destined to be,
I know that I'm not in charge of my destiny,
but I am glad that God assigned you two to me
Mar 13, 2015
Mar 13, 2015 at 3:44 AM UTC
This teetotaler turns to tea
torquing temptation
towards tippling
thankfully, though
that tremendous tugging
teasing tendency thirst *******
thru teaching this totally tubular
toothless titular Texan thuggish tyrant
(titled Tsar Terry Troutman)
transcendental theology
tenets taught transferring
torpedoing, taming threatening
titanic tsunami tempest
tastefully tickling temperance
testing trying taut tenacity
together teaming (troika)
triumvirate torchbearers
*********** therapist
(Tony the tiger)
tough trailblazer theoretician
toady treacly Tory
(Tommy Two Tone),
thence thirdly Theodore
"Tornado" Tornetta)
themselves trained to tamp
twerking tremens triggers,
their tripartite treatment told
tattooing thorny transforming
took this then truant teenage turtle
through time traveling
to those truant tumultuous tragic,
toxic, tipsy twitchy, touchy, tetchy
typhoon terrible two times two
times two times two tantrum
throwing, thieving, threatening
taxing textured teen tinder times -
tossing, tilting, taking tankful tolled
throaty, thoroughly,
thickly telltale temblor
toured terrible tournament
testing taupe tumbling termagant (Thaddeus)
tangling (Tangoing) tiny Timothy,
the treacherous tarantula
tying tussling travail – tata!
May 16, 2018
May 16, 2018 at 6:31 PM UTC
I know of a certain blog that's dedicated to you.
The girl writes really good poems.
But they're all about you.
First, how much she loves you.
Secondly, she starts writing about how she doesn't understand.
She doesn't know why you left.
Thirdly, how mad at you she is.
I loved the poems when I first saw them.
They describe you so accurately.
But I felt kind of bad for the girl.
I mean it was a bit pathetic that she had a whole blog.
Dedicated to you.
I knew I would never do such a thing.
It just wasn't my style.
I would never let a guy mean that much.
I counted the number of poems I've posted here.
And then I counted how many were about you.
I realized I kind of did it.
I made a poetry page about you.
So from now on,
"You" isn't you anymore.
And this blog isn't about you anymore.
It's about me.
And this is your last poem.
Dec 30, 2015
Dec 30, 2015 at 9:50 PM UTC
For my deadbeat father that doesn't care about me, that lies to me about **** that doesn't even acknowledge that I'm alive, and that most importantly doesn't even act like a father to me half the time, I am done with the lies, the u not caring, the EVERYTHING you do and don't do for me! First of all the not caring, you can't even try to tell me that you care because I know you don't and I know you never have! Second of all the lying...... The birthday present you said you bought and what about the Christmas presents you said you had at home or that got lost in the mail where are all of those I'm not just some stupid little three-year-old I know you never got me anything. But what about Autumn and Alexis?Huh? They get everything oh but we can't forget about your perfect little Adyan or you're absolutely perfect son Nathan they all get anything they want phones, tablets, new beds NEW EVERYTHING!!! But then there's me. I get nothing because you don't care.YOU NEVER HAVE!! Thirdly the not even acknowledging I'm alive. When I went to North Carolina to visit you, because I actually cared and wanted to see you, you never did anything with me and don't even say that you were working 24/7 because you weren't. And lastly you don't even act like a father should. That pretty much ties everything together. You said I didn't have to go back to see you so guess what, IM NOT!! And just to let you know I didn't not have fun because my "nose was in my phone" it was because nobody at the house actually feels like family to me. Being on my phone was the highlight of my trip talking to people that actually care about me. It was better than spending time with you or anyone down there. Also while I am talking about deadbeat fathers Glenn(my sisters dad) you are such a low deadbeat **** for choosing drugs over your own daughter and pretty much giving up your rights to her. I love my sister with all of my heart and I would rather her be with us over you any day. Brian Zimmerman is such a better father like figure to me and my sister than either of you two! Happy late Father's Day Glenn Brian and Nathan.
Aug 27, 2016
Aug 27, 2016 at 6:07 PM UTC
People are comparable to the airs they traverse in,
going where they want on a whim and uncaring of the costs,
if they can afford it.
However, if a man measures himself on the distances of his journeys,
the number of layovers and connecting flights he endures to reach his destination,
using them as a means to relay the height at which he flies,
he has become grounded and broken,
fodder for spare parts and scrap,
picked clean by the ants that were once thought insignificant,
meaningless,
void,
cannibalistic in their search for an excuse to make their own,
which they build out of the success of others,
and nurse their sorrows in,
prolonging the mistakes of their generations-long self-feuds.
This is because he has misjudged his instruments,
the instincts that make him human first,
machine second,
and thirdly, above.
Dec 25, 2012
Dec 25, 2012 at 2:08 AM UTC
the professor of unmasking will be
conducting the lecture to-day
and it's recommended that students
tune into the things he'll say
we'll take a little peek
at the layers he'll reveal
the exercise being similar
to removing an onion's peel
you'll not forget
the knowledge he'll impart
it'll stay in your brain's
recollection cart
so let's commence the lesson
enough with the intro's waffling on
firstly
it has an outer skin
secondly
there's the inner rows
thirdly
a center core
as this composite
is
the
professor's
cue
can
any
of
you
offer
a
clue
Oct 9, 2017
Oct 9, 2017 at 7:20 PM UTC
I didn't have to tell you I was lost, you already knew.
I guess the way my lonesome eyes wandered over the pages of blissful and melancholy poems may have been your first clue. I read them, and quoted them out of habit.
Asking you constantly why people didn't talk like this anymore, why they insisted on using simple, dull phrases in their speech to depict their emotions.
You said it was because poetry was a lost art, and that describing how one felt had evolved into just plainly telling them so, without flowering it. Making it easier to understand. Strangely, I couldn't comprehend what you meant by that, but it forever made me wonder why people no longer wanted their words to be beautiful.
The second indication of being lost was the way I tried so hard to stay hidden, but always managed to become exposed. My insides always surfacing at the most inconvenient times. It got to the point where everything I said caused people to look my way.
Not because what I articulated was witty, or even lovely, but because the words I said were unusual and never made sense. Thus, I made an effort to keep my voice quiet. So at least then my insanity would only come out in whispers.
Thirdly, I think you became convinced of my inability to find myself on the day I climbed up onto the roof of my house and told you I was going to jump. I pronounced it was the only way I could ever really achieve my dream to fly, even if it were only for a few seconds before I would collide with the ground. It took hours, but you finally persuaded me to come back down. Promising that you would find me a pair of wings.
And who could forget the time you asked me my favorite color, and I told you it was gray. When you inquired to the reason why, I replied that it was because gray was all my favorite colors blended together. But that I liked it most because it was the color of your downcast eyes. I still remember how you halfheartedly laughed and promptly changed the subject.
I guess, now I can see I wasn't the only one who was lost.
Dec 24, 2012
Dec 24, 2012 at 1:30 AM UTC
When I was younger I use to ponder
How I would one day prefer to flat line and expire
The most attracted option my forgone war bound mind could muster;
Was in the event of a global nuclear holocaust
It brought me some well-deserved comfort due to the fact that
As the residual fall out would inevitably eviscerate me
It shall also decimate everything I hate;
Second viable option was a similar scene straight out of Micheal Bay s Armageddon
Caught in the aftermath of a world killer; a horrific meteor shower
As it would undoubtedly bring about my decease and lay waste to this insufferable biosphere;
Thirdly my personal favourite choice to realize my own demise
Was through a carefully administered ****** overdose I surmise;
Induced in a state of perpetual ecstasy locked in a coma Comfortably numb,
making love then becoming one with oblivion
I think I prefer this choice in contrast to the first two selections
Mainly to avoid all that collateral damage that would directly result in the deaths of a few billion;
But mostly because been lucid awake and sober is an absolute nightmare
Been rooted to a state of utter obliviousness and intoxication are a welcoming pair
And I have reached the point of no return where I no longer care.
Jun 12, 2018
Jun 12, 2018 at 1:35 PM UTC
If given the chance, there are so many things I would do differently. Firstly, I wouldn't make you my entire life. I would realize the importance of balance. I would realize the crucial need for alone time, friend time and you time. I would get my own apartment and create a life. Aside from solely living in yours. Secondly, I wouldn't let my feelings be hurt every single time something didn't go my way. I wouldnt let silly things have any importance or validation to me. Thirdly, I would accept the silence needed after an argument. I wouldn't try and make you feel guilty for still being angry. Your feelings are valid, too. Lastly, I wouldn't feel the need to be included in everything. This goes back to balance. I'm sorry it took you walking away for me to realize these things. I'm sorry it's too late
Feb 3, 2017
Feb 3, 2017 at 11:35 AM UTC
(Finally dude!)
All that dismal stuff was negatively affecting your attitude.
To whom can I attribute it to?
(I've been working on my thankful speech.)
"First, but hardly least,
I'd like to thank my mother for having me.
Secondly, I'd like to give a shout out to all the celestial bodies;
Thank you for aligning in such a great way today!
Thirdly, gravity.
It's been there from the beginning,
and it does well to keep me grounded.
I'd be dumbfounded without it!
It totally keeps me centered.
And now, I'd like to issue a disclaimer;
To the beasts with gnashing teeth that occasionally latch onto my back.
Thanks to the bravery of every lion tamer,
I'll never again feel the fear of their false facts!"
Oct 15, 2015
Oct 15, 2015 at 8:38 PM UTC
the sadness of the eyes is always the first sign
the second is an apparent lack of care
thirdly, feelings they no longer share
then, they neglect their health
lastly, they accept their death.
Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 11:43 AM UTC