Your family loves you very much, they always go to you every Monday to give your favorites. What happened was invincible. It is just that . . . everything comes to an end.
You are bold,
fierce,
fearless
and funny.
People are happy to be with you,
you are out of my league.
We are two different people,
I hated people like you.
But now I can say I do not hate you,
never at all.
Because why would I hate you,
if you make people happy with your silly jokes.
You make people smile
by just simply being yourself.
Laughing,
easy-going.
Saying hello,
approaching.
You are only twenty-seven,
and they say you are too young to leave this world.
They say,
"Condolence,"
see you through the lens.
Rest in paradise,
ride in heaven.
See you on Sunday
at seven,
where there is a white raven.
On August ten,
rest in paradise,
rest in peace.
You are such an amazing person to forget,
rest in paradise.
There,
you would not have to cry
and the wounds will not turn into scars.
There is no one who will hurt you anymore,
I will remember you whenever I see the stars.
They were talking about you.
They asked,
"Why are you like that?
What are you doing with your life,
do not you see it is a mess?"
You said,
"I am living in the moment,
having fun—
why do not you mind your own life instead?
We are different people with different lives anyway."
One day people got doomed,
a dark accident.
The road was wet,
it was raining really hard,
you were riding fast
not wearing a helmet.
With your two-wheel twin by your side,
your head got stuck.
Your family said,
"He is okay,
resting in the hospital."
After two days,
my grandmother came here,
told us,
"He is dead."
Seeing all of those photographs,
when you were still wearing uniforms.
They say you always make people laugh,
I like you for that.
We are different,
but at least we have two things in common.
First,
we are both the first born.
Second,
we love making people happy.
I did not understand people like you,
then I realize the world needs people like you.
I thought it was sweet clouds.
At least . . .
you got to see them before you left—
what does it feel to be there?
It must be free,
please rest in paradise.
Because there,
you would not have to cry.
And the wounds will not turn into scars,
there is no one who will hurt you anymore,
I will remember you whenever I see the stars . . .
