What I need to say is; I'm afraid of people leaving.
Late nights in bed, ill be staring at my blank ceiling with no sleep.
Theres no way to get rid of this feeling and it always shook me awake.
All my emotion wont go away.
I'll be sleep deprive for days but it's doesn't matter it don't look like I'm tired... right?

It's been months since I last saw him.
We grew up together.
But we don't talk, anymore.
With all my trust issues, I'm not surprised of people walking out of my life.
No. Wait I'm wrong.
I am surprised that it was your turn.
There's wasn't a day where u say hello, anymore.
Goodbye.
U never said so.
I didnt know u were away.
So on the day I was on my way back from the beach,
I got a call that u weren't coming back at all.
People leave without saying goodbye.
I'm used to it, it's ok.
But it's my homie who is never coming back.

You know what, I miss being an innocent child.
There was no worries or stressed over "adult problems".
But every one knows everybody grows up so fast, where did the time go?
He and i were just little kids running around playing cops and robbers.
Laughing at Spongebob and Patrick bothering Squidward while eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches coming out of our noses.
Though once we started growing up, we gone through every dead alleyways of L.A. and we end up falling apart.

We were just kids from L.A. where we watched movie stars and big dreams from all over the globe on t.v.
That's a shame, cause the real world was introduced.
Sirens and screams were all you hear on channel 5 and live on the streets.
His parents expected and predict he was gonna be involved.
So every time someone got introuble, the chancla would come out.
It was fun and games but things got serious.
There were more bruises.
And maybe a scar or two.
My parents expected alot from me but I chose to stay with him.
He was familia.
But the day I walked away from the street life, he stayed.

At his funeral, his parents kissed up to him and they would never hurt the likes of a God's child.
No mames.
I miss those peanut butter vibes.
He'll tell me that poetry lies within a picture and all the imagery and colors would be in that photo.
He use to tell me he would escape and go away forever.
Without a trace of him.
It wouldn't be a goodbye.
He would send pictures of places he'll visit and poetry would be written all over it.
But now I can only picture of visiting his grave and bringing him flowers.
I'll walked up and say hello.