Little pink house, upon your hill,
With your wide open door...

Buttercup,
You are my child of the grass...

I dont need you by my side. . .
I can get to sleep without you...

Dreams,
Lie scattered...

Forgotten dreams,
Savage past...

Secrets locked,
Within a chest...

A silent prayer,
For the soldier...

A longing for a moment,
never imagined...

Blunt knives cut,
A dead plant seeds...

Elegant gloves
Of crimson red...

There is a gash
In my leg...

If I wrote a suicide note,
It would probably be like this...