For your poems.
They say the white light is something you see before death, before entering heaven. I don’t think that because if that where true then why have I seen this bright light 100 times before in my life. Every-time I say I’m not hungry, I’m just really cold, I’m tired. My head hurts with nothing to do but let my thoughts roam free. Being locked up in the same house not being able to see the people who make me the happiest. Life isn’t a trap the way you look at it is. I wonder why after all I’ve done, all the pain I’ve caused myself […]