I remember how proud he was
Of his little patch of garden
Red with tomatoes
And his old work boots
Planted with pansies
And I wonder if he watched a last sunset
Before he died
Alone on a bathroom floor with a knife and a needle
And I wonder if there was
Anything else I could have done
But I’ll never know now
And I hope someone else
Remembers him for more than his mistakes
Because that isn’t all he was


don’t you understand
i only have
so much strength inside
i smile because
i make myself
not because I’m happy
this isn’t a fairytale

i don’t want to hear
about what other people have
how it isn’t fair
i fucking clued into that
quite some time ago
i struggle every day
to stay out of that quicksand
why do I have to
drag everyone else out of it

i don’t have the strength
to always be strong
for everyone else
i just want to sit in the shower
head in my hands, and sob
but i can’t
because i don’t think
i’d ever stop