What is so precious about this life?
When everyone I know who loves and believes in it finally decided to end it?
Is it that they are brave to choose a different kind of way to live this life?
Is it that I am jealous how whether they are right or wrong, they have made a decision for themselves unlike the coward in me?
Would you say that they were enlightened or would you say like the rest of the world would that they were fools?
Someone so precious, so full of life yet having the eyes of a wounded puppy asking for help but is constantly being abandoned?
Where are those friends, those people how could not one of them saved him?
Didn’t they hear it in his laughter? Couldn’t they have known it in the melody of his music?
How he begged like a street child while singing to the world the music that he created—
Did he need a more dramatic production to make his suffering known?
I’m sorry. It would have been ok had I not been a useless pawn of fate.
What point is there of it all now? What is there to be thankful for?
When your cruel smile and mesmerized eyes diffused the colors of the sky, he told him he was just lonely.
Lonely, I am lonely is what he’s been telling himself oh, how he have missed that memory when his mom took his hand and made him lunch in grade school…
Now at 28 after everything, what one would never understand happened.
His long and deep breath, do they mean anything to you now?
Should he just lived on? Or would you just say I’m sorry?