Dear Diary.
Hello there, I miss you
Who would believe
So much beauty would
Ever so quickly
Disappear
The smell of second hand smoke
inhaled
the feel of a tongue moving along
your own
Laying in the grass
Looking at the stars wishing time
would never really pass
The naseau and pain of puking up
all the mistakes along the way
Watching the snow fall early
one deadly morning
Screaming and crying at one another
not really knowing feelings
laughing
Showering with 10000 other people
in public
driving through the red lights
at 11 49 at night
Looking down stories wondering
if a broken neck
Could end the heartache
Ripping out strands of gold
Because what the mirror shows
Is ugly and fat
Playing Red Rover Red Rover
Oh wont you please come over
Feeling the air knocked clear out of you
Having someone elses hands slide down
Into a region never touched before
and yes this all has happend
Ducking down behind unknown walls
to hide from the cops
because teenage desires
were too much to be ignored
Sitting lonely on a swing
As the wind blows cold
Fear washes over wanting to be held
Dark corners where janitors roam
catching kids testing their limits
Finding that death has stollen
from you again
Walking hand in hand with a friend
making our way through the snow
with the pain in our feet
thinking we would die in the cold darkness
The sirens and the men pushing the innocence back
The screams from the dead mans friend
Instant passage from this to that
Watching all the adults get loaded
sitting by the bon fire
Running to a wise old man riding a motorcycle
only thing to remember him are memories
Experiencing purple skys and orange sunsets
Warm spring nights and hot summer mornings
The thoughts of love and lust
The reality and all the drugs
Diary, Dear you,
These memories are too precious
To remain and rott in my mind
So I'm sorry
But this is what I must do
I must change
I cant not be me
So I must die
Stay in this world
Be my legacy
Tell the people I love
That I did
and that it will all be better this way
This is a true story.
Dear you, Diary.
