Hung

Swaying there, hanging there, hoping that you'll be the only one to notice. My pool of love from my heart is poured out like blood from my wrists. My face shown a cold, stark white color as if the moon had set upon it. No writings and no suicide letter, just an empty body to confuse all who cares, all who walks by, and all who ever felt the same way I did. Without a care in the world, but still caring about someone who is my world. Only now is there the white light of eternity and the never ending question. . .
with an endless answer. . .