Who am I to you that I matter so much?

I understand that my presence 

does not provide much trust.

I hear you speak of me,

And not in good fashion.

If my presence is that detestable,

Why act like a chameleon?

 

Who am I to you that you act so differently?

It is kind words that blossom from your lips

When I am there. 

Though none pass through on my behave

When I am gone.

 

I can not say that I am not like you.

We share a trait.

Our colors change in our environment,

Just like a chameleon.

 

I can be sweet and blissful,

Sorrowful and depressed.

I can spin a web of colorful language,

To others all in jest.

But know this, dear fellow,

Though my words are often harsh,

I am meaning to fix that little flaw

and begin a new start.

 

So who am I to you

that makes you miss me?

I am like you

I talk like a thief

I must be nobody’s friend

but mine.

 

Who am I to you

to make you act like me too?

I am nothing special,

especially to you.

 

Maybe it is time we learned

to respect one another,

And not indulge in idle talk

damaging each other,

when we think the other,

does not hear it.

She hold her life in her hands as if it were weightless.

Sitting on the edge of sadness and great peril,

The windowsill, open and ushering in an autumn breeze.

She places the gun to her head,

Her hands move all on their own.

Unconsciously, fingering the trigger.

Ready to pass judgment upon her skull.

 

She wishes that as she falls,

She’ll float like a leaf, on the tree outside her window.

Never touching the sunlight again.

Never rustling with her friends at the tippity top.

Never seeing the beginning of new life in mother bird’s nest.

 

In all things, comes the same end.

Life is only a slow and painful death.

And her bullet is a pill that cures all ailments.

Blam!

Her wish has been granted.

I catch her in a timeless moment.

Her body is weightless.

A reddened leaf meeting its end.

Sprawled in a pirouette of lifeless splendor.

 

I’ll never know why she wanted to kill herself,

I mumble as I sit under her tree, laying her down in the arms of the earth.

I wanted to help; I wrote her a note and explained it myself.

After all, life is a slow and painful death.

“Ch-Click”

And this bullet is the pill that cures all ailments.