Cant you see
they dont need you...
On this paper
words are written...
She was just a little girl
Who was afraid of the dark...
Gibbons grew Mr Moustache
to please his vacant friends...
Silently waiting for my dad
To reveal the news of your death...
Seeing him hurt,
Hurts me badly in return...
The tears run down her face,
as she says goodbye...
We die far from home,
from family...
Snow falls from the heavens;
Tundra of desolation lies before me...
If you were to die by your own hand
Nothing would be right in or around my land...
A mistake whipped
through the night wind...
The fall looked fun
the water... tempting...