
Welcome To My Journal...
The casket hit the ground.
The dirt hit the casket.
My heart hit the bottom of stomich.
You became a tear in my eyes.
A life became a memory.
A scent become a distance.
A person became dead in the past.
A heartach became a thought, thought up by a person with no insides.
The raindrop hit the ground.
The depree hit the tombstone.
My heart still refuses to leave my stomich.
You're still the tears in my eye.
Dead flowers line your bedroom.
I lie in your bed.
You lie in my stomich...
...along with my heart...
And everything you ever said.