The Way of the Warrior

I'm with you, and you're with me,

I feel like I could fly,

But I can't tell
If you as well

Would say the same of I.

    To some, he was but a thorn,
In their side, for a few hours a day,
    In a dreary time he was born,
Of this, of course, he had no say.

     Amazing it is, how he grew
Poisoned himself, for want of fun.
    His eyes a deadened shade and hew,
A child of a century past, this one.

    With friends who are not truely friends,
He entered a car that would seal his fate.
    This night of poisoned fun would be his end,
And to his end, he was not late.

    A cage of steel would be his tomb,
A screech of tires his last will.
    A few bottles and bags would be his doom...
After all this, the night grew still. 

    Some say he was but a thorn in their side,
That this was what he was asking for.
    But no help was offered, this you cannot hide,
And he shall walk this earth never more.

...I WRITE EMO POETRY BEFORE I GO TO BED. 

And drunk driving was on my mind at the time.

Meh.

Hello. You appear to be looking at my journal. 

I am tired. : |

And a little frustrated. Women, apparently, don't like me that way.

Eh. What the hell.