They say it is easy to communicate this. I am the person to stand securing him. Three little words with good taste yet sharp fingers to his addict. Three that should save him here on our earth. Three little words slapped on his face. I can vision it all now, and he doesn’t listen and hurts even more.

This thing is poison. It lets chilling thoughts a-top his life. It grips him and he hates to not stop his loved people from helping him and I hate him for only what he hasn’t tried to save. He won’t care for now.

Just say no is reason for living, but there are dark clouds in his head, rain is in his vision again today. Stop, stop, stop, I say when I see it. He’s addicted.

I don’t want him gone, for this killer is not stopping, not for him or any one person with great care, and I ask God what the hell. There is such vivid view to seeing him on the floor. Three words don’t affect him. Three whose meaning was to save him and it didn’t.