Grave
I put these flowers on your grave i know you dont even like flowers so now i feel bad its october your tombstone is under a giant tree filled with falling leaves they fall at my feet at your feet the feet of your grave the flowers i set out for you are dark red like the blood that used to pour from all the cuts you gave yourself i dont know what i did i never asked i just let you do your thing how did i know you were to die the next day? this cemetery seems so dark i remember when we used to visit your brother here and now im giving flowers to the both of you i thought i was there and now you're gone i don't know what i did what i could have done what i should have done he was murdered you murdered yourself i've been here all day crying these stupid pathetic tears of mine maybe if i would have said something did something you'd be here with me we'd be visiting your brother, right now, on his birthday its the anniversary of his he was shot on the day you were dead on the same and i wouldn't be visiting you... Written April 4th, 2002 © on Apr 04 2002 05:26 AM PST 18 • 0 • 1
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"I put these flowers on your grave..."