I asked you how he’s doing the day before he died, you said he’s doing fine we’re all just doing fine
About a week ago I watched his body lowered down. Now no one’s doing fine and I am less and less around
I’m sick to death and scared that I might actually be the culprit. I didn’t spend much time with him and no one seemed to notice
His lust for life was squandered when he lost his loving friends; believe he actually was a corpse before his life had ended
The final letter seemed despondent as if he wasn’t there, one more summer and you could have been amongst the world you feared
You were happy. Don’t understand how it could all be fake. Your smile glowing but your eyes reflected shame
Sorrowful and somber-filled your family didn’t help. Your sister was the one with issues that they had to deal with now
Now life is but a memory and death is in full swing. Your skin that held together bone is promptly decaying
Family gathered round to see an issue unresolved. Why couldn’t you have told a friend that might’ve helped it all
“Identify the body” the father pleaded so. All that laid was flesh no longer occupied a soul
Delicate and calm the father witnessed his son’s fate. The bullet hole that entered had an exit just the same
I’ve been wrapping these tragedies in plastic and throwing them away amidst the trash that I inhabit
It’s madness, it’s tragic. I’m clogging up my feelings with this sickness that is sadness
& I asked you how he’s doing the day before he died, you said he’s doing fine we’re all just doing fine
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