Death is a funny thing.Trigger warning - Lots of stuff.More Like This
But so is life.
They both bring people together. And once either happens, it happens. There is no reset button, no undo, and no matter how many times you think to yourself "Ctrl+z, Ctrl+z" it will not go back to how it was before.
On Friday, the twenty-seventh of October, 2011, a sophomore at my school passed away. Karah Conroy was being driven to school by her brother, a senior. They had to cross one of the busiest roads in our area. A person on the southbound side paused to let them pass but a woman heading northbound hit the car on the passenger side - where Karah was. This was on Wednesday morning. Come that night everybody in the school knew. We all wore orange on Thursday as support. The school also made plans for everybody to wear green on Friday. We learned that night that she passed away. Friday when I walked into school is was silent. Everybody still wore green, but people were
Beautiful MemoriesI was cleanin' out my room today,More Like This
Trying to find myself.
When I spied a little box,
Just hidin' on my shelf.
I took it down, dusted it off,
To find out what it was.
And found it full of bittersweet memories,
There just because.
As I looked through them,
I realized something strange;
I may know where I wanna be,
But I don't know where I've been.
I tried to figure it out
But all I've got is this box.
No hints or clues, not even one,
Just some mixed memories to help me puzzle it out.
Collecting dust on the shelf.
Oh beautiful memories,
They've made me myself.
Don't have all the answers,
Just a ton of questions.
Maybe these recollections
Will help me find out.
You're just collecting dust on the shelf.
Please help me find out.
Oh bittersweet memories,
You're going back on my shelf.
Just please keep collecting memories,
To show me myself.
clipe.îţi curg lacrimile şi-ţi crapă obrazul stâng,More Like This
când cânţi la umărul meu
în formă de vioară.
te-mbrăţişez cu genele mele,
ca suliţele îţi intră în carne şi te crufic
cel mai frumos ochi al meu vede cu încetinitorul
despică măruntaiele zilei
şi mai şi lăcrimează de la dermatograf;
dar tu îţi aranjai firele de păr
în balta de sânge a orelor,
te parfumai cu infinitul de sub asfalt
şi zâmbeai la aripile de pescăruşi, cochetai cu moartea
şi-i făceai cu ochiul mării.
închină-te la cea mai frumoasă
venă a mea,
liniştea să ţi-o aşez felii pe masă,
să facem tăcere în loc de dragoste,
iar în podul palmei adună-mi dermatograful
înecat în lacrimile naşterii urletului