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Roses are red so is the blood that pours out of my wrists and legs.
I hate that I cant stop the bleeding.
I hate that you will never get the chance to know who I really am.
This is my December.
This is my time of the year.
When the white of the snow is turned blood red by my blood shed.
All the hate in the world I have for him never goes away. 

He is gone she has no one else he has died at 15 years old why would he go away and leave her it hurts to see him go like that.
He was just a indan who never had a care until he was in love with a girl that had his heart to hold but she never knew how much he cared for her but when he died she saw how much he loved her. He was the only one that really cared for her the way she thought her boyfriend did. He hurt her. He hurt him. He left her with one thing to remind her of him his journal.