she sits, she breathes,
she laughs, and speaks
a song i played out a million times

the words she writes
contrived to save
some peace of mind
because, she knows,
she’ll die.


her hair, her face,
her voice, the place
she knows she’ll go one awful day

but who’s to say?
she looks okay
but deep inside 
she stows it all
away


she meant so much to me
in loving memory
the signs were always there
brushed away without a care

i see her in my dreams
notebooks and ghostly screams
what did she write? i’m longing to know
PLEASE TELL ME HER NAME OH WAS IT


so this is how
it’s meant to end
i know it’s cruel
l’appel du vide
(la pel du vi de)

now im a wreck
my room’s a mess 
and i can’t find 
a reason to stay
alive

i try to write
all of the things
i feel down but
to no avail

impossible, unreachable
to find out why
i miss and love her so


she meant so much to me
in loving memory
the signs were always there
brushed away without a care

i see her in my dreams
notebooks and ghostly screams
what did she write? i’m longing to know
PLEASE TELL ME HER NAME OH WAS IT
i’ve seen so much, i’m longing to know
was she the thorn, or was she a
Rose?