I Am A Walking Martyr By Bo-Edward Lawrence

Why Life Hurts !

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Life will break you.

Nobody can protect you from that, and living alone won't either, for solitude will also break you with its yearning.

You have to love.

You have to feel.

It is the reason you are here on earth.

You are here to risk your heart.

You are here to be swallowed up.

And when it happens that you are broken, or betrayed, or left, or hurt, or death brushes near, let yourself sit by an apple tree and listen to the apples falling all around you in heaps, wasting their sweetness.

Tell yourself you tasted as many as you could.

-LE

Euphoric Nights By Bo-Edward Lawrence

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I just want to make love to you 

In the back seat swearing like an athlete

Seat back 

Listening to party next door

Sipping Henny please god no more no more 

don't let the tree hit the floor

These sins that can turn a good girl into whore

Sins that she'll later pay for

The Love Plant By Bo-Edward Lawrence

I break down my love,

Roll it up,

And watch as what once was romantic turns into ashes.

Inhale the memories while I exhale the pain.

You smile with laughter when the smoke hits your chest. 

Because you begin to realize the same emotions that made you fall in love are the same ones that break you. 

But the pain feels cold like a lustful bliss

That I missed, maybe even regret that I fell in love with winter! 

The most coldest season.

The smoke depicts memories that hold so much happiness for unspoken reasons.

Heartbreak never seems to ever break even. 

If it was meant to be than the door would never have been an option. . .

I used to think the worst thing in life was to end up all alone. 
It's not. 
The worst thing in life is to end up with people that make you feel all alone.

And now, The Winter is coming ! 

-Bo-Edward Lawrence

Quote of the Day! by Bo-Edward Lawrence

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"Don't Ever Chase Love, because love likes long walks in the park" -Bo-Edward Lawrence

My Body Is Not Your Temple By Bo-Edward Lawrence

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"Lips that conceive lies,

With a breath that reeks of regret.

Makes me realize why your teeth shows gaps of faith and crooked promises and hopes.

Your a mouthful of pessimism 

That makes me choke !

My chest and ribs become compressed because my stomach can't understand or process 

that you ain't shit but a thigh away from being alone, 

A leg away from depression, 

And a toe away from death"

My Suicide Note by Bo-Edward Lawrence

My Suicide Note

You know i never thought i would be alive long enough to write this poem.

Witnessing God in my dreams, talking to me

I didn't want to wake up. I was having a much better time asleep. 

As sad as that sounds.

It was almost like a reverse nightmare, 

usually when you wake up from a nightmare you're so relieved. 

I woke up into a nightmare.

I woke up to the sounds of my knuckles knocking on the devils gate. 

I am not his advocate..

God forgive me for my sins.

My angel wings have been burned off my aching skeleton 

The pain i feel is more traumatizing and genuine as if i was a war veteran

sleep is the cousin of death and suicide is its closest relative

This cold barrel to my dome, never made me afraid but for some reason i feel like I’m going home.

God, I’m coming home

They say every second, minute, and hour of the day you write your future, your story.

There were many times i wished i could tear out some of the pages, but instead i always feel like burning the entire book.

its all bad! 

The entire world is against me. 

Can someone. . 

Tell my mother that she is the kindest angel i have ever known

and my father, thank you for teaching me how to be a man.

Tell them I’m sorry that this life lesson doesn’t feel like a blessing but instead like a curse.

Tell the reporters that i was never into drugs or a criminal 

just make sure they don’t sell me to the world as a bad person.

I raise home to my head and put it next to my temple 

and i reflect . . . .

The easiest thing in life is to quit. The hardest thing in life is to live.

Just to know that all my pain, all my hurt can end with a pull of a trigger. . 

I want my death to be beautiful, i want my death to be meaningful. would it be considered beautiful if i scattered my brains on this windshield as my old thoughts create a Picasso.

I don’t want to be the man that nobody knows until he commits suicide, and then everyone had a class with him.

Sometimes home isn’t the answer, sometimes running away isn’t the right thing to do. 

I want to be known as the one who stared down the barrel of a gun and found enough beauty to look away. 

and live. . .