These poems are what people will remember us by,
reading between the lines to try and understand
how someone could ever feel like
the world would be better without you in it.
They believe that you are supposed to love life,
and not crave to be resting
in a place where it never hurts.
But they never felt the edge of us,
they never see us blowing up history,
time and time again,
and it becomes a shadow that haunts us.
They will never know our final thoughts,
until they remember our dark poetry,
then they begin to see
that options were running out,
long before the lights went out.
