I often think about death. A lot people scared about death. but a few of people trying and wishing to die. I wonder how it feels like to die, is that good? or is it the best escape from all of this life?
but I thought death won't realize anything. I live in death, it's not good. it's *****. alone. small. invisible. and you were nothing but a small memories. no love. no glory. no victory. you were still alone, and no one listen to you.
so I guess death doesn't release you from anything. and death doesn't mean your heart have to stop beating. we life to fight ourselves and the whole world, and when we lose, there's always a way to come back to life.

The world doesn't feel real
Like a million of us could fit in a measuring cup
So make something good,
Something sweet.
All the odds and ends adding up to something,
Something that could be beautiful when it ends.
Even though I feel so lost,
I know I have it all together.
Little pieces like a puzzle,
I just can't figure out where they belong.
The wisdom will come to me,
I know it.
Through a cloud, the universe or age.
It'll all be alright.
Someone kiss me through the night.
While I hold a few bottles of wine in my young hands.
Someone hold me till I can think straight,
Someone hold me until I am whole.
I'm finally a real person,
I'm finally alive.

"Have I ever told you how Beautiful you are?
I don't think I have but I could show you.
If you let me, I could kiss every little inch
of your face and leave no freckle untouched.
Your forehead; last. Idk who you're sometimes hurt by
but I hate your pain.
I just want you to know that there's someone out here
who wants you to be happy
& If I made you smile at any point in this message;
then I've done my job."

the problem is I can't.
I can't trust anyone.
I have issues going across railroad tracks without making sure once, twice, three times that a train isn't coming.
when I muster up courage to look in a full body mirror, which isn't often, I check my reflection five times to make sure a scar isn't visible.
when I read ten word poems, I count each and every word seven times.
so why would I trust him when there is no proof to check nine times?

It's like broken ribs
It's excruciating, breath taking
But no one but you knows it
Not another soul can feel it

It cripples you, drains you
It takes all it can from you
And just when you think it's moved on
It stabs you yet again

As if to tell you
It's best to just give in
It likes to make you cry, weep
Your joy, it likes to take and keep

You'll want to give up
For that is its goal
It'll take your will to live
And crush it without a second glance

It's the product of too much evil
Sometimes too much love
It comes along when you want it least
For many of us, the pain may never cease

you were beautiful
when he whispered it into your ear
in the backseat of his car
with salty lips pressed against your smooth skin

but you were also beautiful
before he told you so