Stay
My other blogsite went down and I'm not able to post this up there right now... Just thought I would put this somewhere...
I thought I knew you.. to the point that I wonder now what the world had to do to you to make it so hard for you to do things that normal people do. We talked on a regular basis and and your face is something I'd never forget, especially when you smiled. Now, I know the world's been rough and you try to be tough, but you kept falling under the wheels of the wagon you fell off of. I remember the self-inflicted night stories you told me, not brandishing the scars but boldly sharing the tools used to make the incisions and the root cause to the decisions behind each blade. One was never enough for you, and I know you didn't stop at two. A whole handful is what did the trick for you. Now, all that is left to ask is "Who? Who pushed you to make a decision like this, to pour a bottle, clench your fist, swallow them down like a child swallows candy, gulp them down fast with whatever was handy? Then drift off to sleep, counting the pills, not sheep, one by one as they poisoned your blood, counting the hours, hoping the morning don't come?" That's no way to live, I always told myself. You've got too much to give. Seek help for that condition. You were living to die. The tears from your eyes seeped and soaked through to grace a shoulder of mine. I'm glad that you felt you could share yourself with me, the trust was there for no one to see but you and me, and now only a memory that speaks whenever you fight with yourself to believe that there's more to people than "what's in it for me?". I still think I know you, but it's been a long time since we've spoken and now I'm hoping that the bond between us hasn't been broken to the point where no fix can be found and you don't think I'm never around to hear what you've got to say. I would hate for things to end that way. Stay.
I thought I knew you.. to the point that I wonder now what the world had to do to you to make it so hard for you to do things that normal people do. We talked on a regular basis and and your face is something I'd never forget, especially when you smiled. Now, I know the world's been rough and you try to be tough, but you kept falling under the wheels of the wagon you fell off of. I remember the self-inflicted night stories you told me, not brandishing the scars but boldly sharing the tools used to make the incisions and the root cause to the decisions behind each blade. One was never enough for you, and I know you didn't stop at two. A whole handful is what did the trick for you. Now, all that is left to ask is "Who? Who pushed you to make a decision like this, to pour a bottle, clench your fist, swallow them down like a child swallows candy, gulp them down fast with whatever was handy? Then drift off to sleep, counting the pills, not sheep, one by one as they poisoned your blood, counting the hours, hoping the morning don't come?" That's no way to live, I always told myself. You've got too much to give. Seek help for that condition. You were living to die. The tears from your eyes seeped and soaked through to grace a shoulder of mine. I'm glad that you felt you could share yourself with me, the trust was there for no one to see but you and me, and now only a memory that speaks whenever you fight with yourself to believe that there's more to people than "what's in it for me?". I still think I know you, but it's been a long time since we've spoken and now I'm hoping that the bond between us hasn't been broken to the point where no fix can be found and you don't think I'm never around to hear what you've got to say. I would hate for things to end that way. Stay.