Counting to Four

 There is a stain resting on the inner-most passions of my heart
Violas bring comfort, though my tears appear more than the stars.
One kiss, one hand, oneday.
Two conversations, two warm hearts, two different names.
Is this all a game?
A hypocritical attempt to be better than the rest?
The vain endeavor challenging myself, my thoughts, and my existence
I grapple with the frightening urge to slash open my wrists
Dedicating one last poem on a brown paper bag to my parents.
Asking for no tears from my friends
Pleading to all of them, with a fractured perception, for forgiveness...
Three minutes to leave. Three seconds where i can't breathe. Three little words i say but never mean.
Four days left to make things right. Four hundred reasons to die. Four simple standards broken with a sigh.
Things have changed worse than seeing water spoil into wine.
Distracted by lack of sleep I'm drawn into all these sweet lullabies.
Please, no more talking...
I'm ready to say my final goodbyes