Snow
Maybe I should leave. Maybe I should go. Maybe I should off my self, when nobody’s home. Maybe then they’ll see. That hidden part of me. That’s eating me alive. Maybe I should die.
Maybe then they’ll see. The sickness that’s in me. They’ll see past all my lies. That fakness that is me.
Why’d I have to go? And turn myself to snow? Why can’t they see? That’s all I want to be. Life is over rated. More fake than even I. But snow is unrelated, a uniqueness of its own kind.
Every flake is different. Like I truely am. Snow is white and pure. While I am dead as sand. Sand is plain and grainy, gets stuck between your toes. Everyone hates that feeling. And I understand your woes. I don’t even want to be around me. Why should others suffer too? I understand my punishment. It all leads back to you.
Maybe I should leave. Maybe I should go. Maybe I should off myself. And settle all these woes. I truly am sorry, for what I have to do. But maybe it’ll be better, than what I’m going through.
The darkness that’s inside, is trying to escape. It wants it’s longing freedom, to cause more trouble in its wake. I’ve tried to contain it. To keep it all I side. But it’s eaten me away, now I must surely die. Maybe I’ll be different. Maybe more alive. Maybe I can rest, and finally shut my eyes. Maybe I’ll have my final wish… And turn to sparkling snow
10 years ago I wrote this poem. This terrible note of hopelessness. Those are 10 years that I didn't think I would get to experience at the time. But here I am today, looking out over the snow and counting all my blessings that I could have never imagined back then. While life hasnt been perfect, I wouldn't have it any other way because what is life but a conglomeration of imperfect moments that lead to beautiful memories?
