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MatureOngoing6m
Last published Wed, Jan 13, 2016
I used to think graveyards were a beautiful sight. Not because of all the dead, but because of the way flowers would rest on the stones and crows would call out to the sky. I guess they were beautiful when no one you knew was buried within. I wish I knew how my tastes would change, and my throat would get tight seeing the cemetery gates. It was pitiful, the reasoning as to why I ended up here so, so often. One more time I wish I could say goodbye, and maybe make my last words something more heartfelt instead of hateful. It's like their lives were timed too short, and I wasn't prepared for the timer to run out.
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