Sad as Elliot Smith's death is (and it is very sad), it is still no excuse to whip out the bad poetry I've been seeing floating around the internet. It reminds me uncomfortably of the notebooks of poems my 14-year-old self dedicated to Kurt Cobain. It makes me want to dig out said notebooks and perhaps post one. Because I find it both painful and hilarious, like everything from that age.

Ahem.

THIS IS FOR KURT COBAIN
4/8/94

My Unknown Angel
Goodbye is worth nothing
When you cannot speak to the one you love.
When he is gone
And you never got to say
"No matter what, I am here,
To always believe in you."
When he never got to see
The corner of your heart he lived in.
When the world tells you
He deserved nothing but misery.
How can you get over it
If you have no hope for humans?
What do you do
If the only one that understood you
Is dead
And they blame him for dying?
Too much of him is left behind
And you will mourn alone
Until the day you finally meet
When he will fill your soul
With the music in his eyes.

Oh, so painful.