This was written about Sam that I met at Vinyl.

Gasping for a breath of life, and I can barely still see the colours of the room.
A stiffness to my neck prevents me from perceiving what is left to hold on to.
Begging and hoping for the hand so gentle to caress a face to tender compassion.
I am losing hope…

Laughter behind my back brings forth a lack of confidence.
If only some pitied thee, one would learn to trust himself.

A shortage of air and brightness dims.
Moments left for a final thought,
If only I could of died happy.