Naturally

In a little while from now,
If I'm not feeling anyless sour,
I promise myself to treat myself
And visit a nearby tower
And climbing to the top will throw myself off,
In an effort to make it clear to who
Ever what it's like when you're shattered..........

Wicked Game

A man may smile one day.
He has friends in many places.
People call him their brother, their protector, their 'Father', someone who look after them, us.
What does one remember you for?
How much does one want to remember?
How you talked, how you said hello and goodbye, they way you looked on in pity or anger.
By what you did and why.
In the end, they just come by, take a look and say, "You were loved greatly by all."
And that's the end of it.
No matter what you do, it's never enough.
You never get the chance to straighten things out, no chance to say you were sorry for this and that, or a thank you to those who looked after you.










We are dead men whether we like it or not.
Never live a life without thinking it could never happen.




This Christmas, I remember you, you that went without saying a goodbye, without telling us why.