R.I.P - Suicide is a bitch.
This poem is dedicated to Josh Stewart, a warm-hearted guy with enough guts to wear girls' pants on a regular basis, and he actually looked good in them. His smile was adorable and he had a personality anyone could get attached to. We all miss and love you, man. Rest in peace.
Wrong Name in the Headstone
When the angry sun rose
And burned your wings,
The demons walked close
And whispered nasty things.
If you had made it through another day,
We could have cut the rope around your neck.
Your friends are willing to say,
"I wish Death had taken my life instead."
While some angels end up falling,
You weren't meant to in Time's eyes.
Hanging is for the sickest of criminals,
Not a lost kid who found suicide.
Worms are the ones who crawl,
You were a bird destined to fly.
Now we hold on to your memory
And cry our strongest tears,
Sorrow and faith blurring
In a surrealism of melancholy smears.
Though it's difficult to see,
We'll keep looking and dreaming for you,
Place roses on your grave as you rest in peace,
Mourning because you left too soon.
Wrong Name in the Headstone
When the angry sun rose
And burned your wings,
The demons walked close
And whispered nasty things.
If you had made it through another day,
We could have cut the rope around your neck.
Your friends are willing to say,
"I wish Death had taken my life instead."
While some angels end up falling,
You weren't meant to in Time's eyes.
Hanging is for the sickest of criminals,
Not a lost kid who found suicide.
Worms are the ones who crawl,
You were a bird destined to fly.
Now we hold on to your memory
And cry our strongest tears,
Sorrow and faith blurring
In a surrealism of melancholy smears.
Though it's difficult to see,
We'll keep looking and dreaming for you,
Place roses on your grave as you rest in peace,
Mourning because you left too soon.