Teddy B,
Why won't you answer me?
Your mother said... Well she-
She-
She was nealed on her knee
And well.... she-
Called me;
At 3.
She talked with her voice in a manner so shamefully,
With my replies I had to speak carefully.
Your mother,
Well, uh... She-
She-
Said that: her son-
Ta,
Ta,
Teddy
Ba,
Ba,
B-
Teddy B.
Well, she-
...Said that you really loved me.
I.
....
I said;
I know Mrs. B,
But why are you up at 3?
Mrs. B, most are resting peacefully.
La,
La,
La,
Listen to me.
Well,
Uh,
He,
He.
He has-
Mrs. B?
Who is he?
Speak clearly!
Well, my dear-Teddy B
...
He died.
At first I thought your mother lied.
But my organs were tied.
And I lost all my pride,
Fell to the floor and cried.
It was almost a double homicide
Because I was so traumatized!
Felt like I was in for a long train ride.
I was the Bonny to your Clyde!
It was you and I ride or die!
But Teddy B;
You're dead,
And Teddy B-
You haven't answered me.
All I do is lay in bed,
I cry because my best friend is dead.
Mrs. B gave me all your writings,
(her and her demons are fighting)
All of them I have read.
Teddy B, why do you have to be dead?
The mornings - I dread,
I can barely get out of bed.
I miss you getting mad from being called "Ted",
YOU ARE READING
Teddy Brinkelsion
PoetryA poem about a close friend of mine that passed away in the late morning in late summer.