I get asked why I cut myself
why I would ever hurt myself...
After eat I make myself sick
It's my daily routine...
I hear my voice-
The dry, empty words falling from my lips...
I usually love the rain-
But, today, it sounds like...
He rubbed the supple and smooth rope, a well used...
The tears had been the secretions of wary spring...
I would never aim at his head. It had been hit...
Paper dolls and intense emotions,
Laps of memories put in motion...
If you could see the woods behind me
tall, quiet and yellow...
The air is still
his breath staining air...
When I think back to all the good times we spent...
I know we will stay friends forever...
I was born 25th April 1997,
Premature with a weight of 2 pound 6...
I was going to write a sad poem
But my nephew shot himself...