As I lay dying, impaled by the blades of grass below me I pondered whether or not my soul was worth saving. The warm air that only summer nights could produce slowly made it's way into every ounce of my blood. I caught a glimpse at the stars through the tree I lay under. I could never see the great images others always talked about when referencing stars, just random sparks of light. But beauty in my eyes is randomness. And I witnessed the beauty of the universe.
To tell you the truth the blades of grass didn't kill me. The desolation of my heart and soul did. The loneliness slowly bled me out until the only thing left in me was emptiness. Emptiness that could only be filled by someone else, and it seems everyone has a someone else but me. So I remain empty. And I remain cold, even though the warm summer breeze is blowing.
