Poetry

This Can't be Real

On Tuesday when you died

A part of me went and dried.

So hard, like clay.

I knew I'd never get over that day.

A piece of me is torn,

So much so, it's like a new me was born.

I wish I could do something just for one hour back,

But I can't because of that superpower we lack.

It hurts so much to wake up in the morning,

And just suddenly remember you're gone without any warning.

I don't know what to feel,

Because this can't be real.

I feel sad,

And it's driving me so mad.