It’s like snow How the cold whips your face With each speck your in pain But so soft So you’re innocent You expect an embrace Betrayal.

Numbers fail to fulfil The amount of joy I feel To bask in your presence And treasure all the thrill To count the ways I love you Would never cease to end For my love is limitless And I know that much is true

Her veiny pale hands held a note Her rotting flesh an envelope The whites of her eyes, glassy and gory Even the dead tell stories

It starts to fly, then descend. A diary disaster meets its end. I ponder how it ever survived, And why on earth we have butterflies.

I know why the caged bird sings I know that it’s limp limbs wish to be wings I know that in muscle memory it soars Across the wildest streams I know that it’s feet miss the warm real wood I know that it’s food won’t do it good I know that it’s instincts are to fly Not sing, but it has to try.

She’s only 14. Her heart so meek, Her soul so sweet, Her mind deadly

My scythe, her air, Each day despair, Words clogged by dread, She knows I’m her end.

I cant accept My warm kind gift Can turn so sick, Or seem a trick.

I want to care. Welcome the end. So as your friend, I’ll do my best…

She was only 14.

‘You don’t love me? Oh come on, not even a little bit? Not even a tiny little spark? I really thought you did. After everything we’ve been through, I feel like you should love me, at least a little bit. Honestly, why though. Like, why not? We’ve been friends, for years now. Years! And you haven’t felt anything? This can’t be right-person-wrong-time because it would’ve had to have been the right time during our friendship. 12 years and I’ve loved you for 10 of them, and you haven’t loved me for any? Oh please, I know you love me, right?’

I’m tapped inside The walls so tight The air is heat I cant cool down I’m kicking And hitting But this feeling Sickening I kick and hit And flick and kick And hit and flick And I can’t escape I’m trapped inside

But do they like me? If I said what I said And I didn’t use my head Now in their head I’m dead But do they like me? Cause they can pretend And I’ll never be their friend If this is the end But do they like me? Cause I can’t pretend If they fill me with dread Then it won’t stay unsaid Cause I don’t like them.

Even the dead tell stories Though they come with caution Suicide notes can be morbid Or laced with a deadly toxin So if the cold whips your spine When the mansion bears a letter Be wary when you recite The tale of a spectre