I’ve had food so good, that I’ve thought that I would like to stay alive, just to try food that good again.
I’ve listened to music so good, that I’ve thought that I would like to stay alive, just to listen to another song like that.
I’ve had sex so good, that I’ve known that life was worth living, just to see this person again some day.
I’ve seen views so beautiful, that I’ve thought that I would like to stay alive, just to see a view similar in beauty.
I’ve seen women so beautiful, that I’ve thought that I would like to stay alive, just to possibly have the chance to meet her some day.
I’ve read books so good, that I’ve thought that I would like to stay alive, just to read more books.
I’ve loved my nephew so much, that I thought that I would like to stay alive, just to see him grow up.
I’ve had dreams of what my own life could become, if I had enough time and I’d like to stay alive to see if these dreams come true or not.
I’ve never been in love while being loved back. I think I’d like to stay alive to see if I can experience this.
It sounds nice.
I’d like to stay alive to see where tech goes.
I’d like to stay alive to see what else we discover about the oceans and space.
It would be neat to go to space someday.
There are some friends, family members and lovers I’d like to see again. I suppose they are worth staying alive for.
I’ve only experienced two things that have made me want to die.
A heart break.
And the death of a dog.
Even then, I only slightly wanted to die.
It was more like I wanted to kill a part of myself; not the whole thing.
The part that was feeling pain.
The part that was vulnerable.
I had alcohol, weed and women to get me through it.
I got through it.
It took time
but I did.
Then,
after the time passed,
the reasons why I wanted to live,
they started to reemerge.
They were gone for awhile.
Out of sight.
All those reasons, they didn’t matter when the darkness had taken over.
I tried to use the darkness as fuel.
Fuel for art.
Fuel for the fire.
Fuel for my passions.
Fuel for my selfish goals.
Maybe it worked.
I’m not sure.
I tried to put my suffering somewhere.
To use it.
And to let it use me.
Here is words that rhyme
people seem to like rhyming poetry
but I hate it
It was only because of the darkness that I started to write.
It was only because of the darkness that I started to fight.
I was searching for the light
But i only saw the night.
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