.. .. .. . . . . . . .

12:34am and we can't stop the cherry tears.

 May 30th and we already have frost slowing our pulse.

79 degrees Fahrenheit and we're turning into a heap of cold red.

Might be seasonal, 

But we're too sensitive.

12:43am and a trail of bloody sadness stains our faces.

Nine minutes and we're pumping slower each time.

Cried about lost chances to a boy who has been drowning since age 12.

drove us home because eyes don't have windshield wipers.

and his hands, he claimed to dirty for ours.

There's three other hearts in the car.

and all you hear is the one that stopped.

3:05pm and we're still here.

November 8th and our arteries are frozen.

47 degrees Fahrenheit and the blizzard spreads on.

Might be seasonal,

But it doesn't matter. 

It's too late to thaw the ice in our veins.

and it's only going to get colder.

3:50 and theres no sign of life in our eyes.

Forty five minutes and we're beating slower with each passing *pum bom*

Poured our soul to a man who let the cup tip over and spill into the thirsty earth.

We drove him home because he was to afraid to open his eyes.

You'd be wise to keep them shut.

and our hands are too cold for his.

and after hearing our song,

he knows it too.

There's seven thrumming hearts down stairs and 10 outside.

and we can't let theirs go.

Downgrade To Skinned Knees, Please.

"Be still, and know that I am God: I will be exalted among the heathen, I will be exalted in the earth." 

Psalms 46:10

Be still.

The world is moving so quickly.

Where did the skinned knees on every kid go?

Weren't those "in" when I was their age?

They're on the "Flappy Bird"

But dont worry,

When you press restart

it will be as if the bird never flew.

you will get a "fresh" avatar.

So, don't worry.

My childhood is gone.

I spend my time deliberating College essays.

Maybe,

 I don't know what the hardest thing I've gone through is.

Maybe,

I don't know how to cram that much emotion into a limited amount of words.

Maybe,

I'm too out of date for an update.

Maybe,

I'd like a down grade instead.

To that field I knew for 8 1/2 years.

To the barn We were going to run away too.

To my tree house with no walls or roof, but it had carpet.

To a sliver dog that could climb trees.

To the milk carton boats I raced.

To birds that didn't clip their own wings.

To my kitten Beanie Baby.

To hot air balloons every New years.

It's not like you can put your childhood on your college application anyway.

They don't care that the barn, 

Is gone.

The field,

Well, a big white house is there now.

The silver dog,

is dead.

All the races,

were lost.

That kitten Beanie Baby,

was left on a plane.

That my tree house,

was ripped out. down to the last root.

As for the hot air balloons,

 they never made it more than a few feet before all hope was lost.

and they were brought down.