Death makes me angry.
Especially one so unfair.
Your first summer we didn't talk,
But the second summer it was like
we had known each other our whole lives.
And I think that
I just don't believe that
you're gone.
Maybe that's why it doesn't hurt yet.
People say god this, god that,
It was god's timing
Blah blah blah
And I don't care if I make people angry because I'm angry.
It's not right that you have been taken away
from us.
Last summer was supposed to be another summer of picnics with wine at the river.
I will try to remember you by your laugh.
I know that you know
You are missed,
but more so
loved.
