I can't decide
if I want to
die at an early age,
with the wind in my hair,
and pride on my chest,
as I breathe my last,
or die while rocking
on my favorite chair,
where I sang songs
with my grandchildren,
and fell in love every day.

"Please",
I whisper
"Teach me how to die"*.
I pleaded with the grass,
the moon,
and the stars.
They have all seen,
the tragic beauty in death
countless times,
and I want nothing more
than for them to show me.

I am an angel
of evil.
Who delivers
disappointment,
and lies.
Along with broken hearts,
with a side of pain.
I can't help it,
and I am very sorry
for the unavoidable pain
that will ensue
when you become attached.

I have a vision,
for how everything works.
That at a young age,
I stole.
From books,
and shows,
but now
I am beginning
to realize
that none of this is true,
and this world is warped,
and shameful,
and true love is a lie.

I will name
my first born child
Roman.
For the Romans
were the *******,
the murderers,
the economic giants,
the success story,
the strong,
the bold,
the brave.
But they were also the
deliverers of grace,
the remorseful,
the shamed,
the quiet,
and the noble.
And I can only pray
that my child
will be all of these.

I will name
my first born child
Roman.
For the Romans
were the *******,
the murderers,
the economic giants,
the success story,
the strong,
the bold,
the brave.
But they were also the
deliverers of grace,
the remorseful,
the shamed,
the quiet,
and the noble.
And I can only pray
that my child
will be all of these.