Crash
He's gone. He's really gone.
He can't be!
He was just here.
-time marches on-
Happy, happy, happy
Remember that time...
Crash
He's gone. He's really gone.
He can't be!
He was just here.
-time marches on-
Joy, joy, joy
Oh, wait...
Crash
He's gone. He's really gone.
He can't be!
He was just here.
Crash
Like my sorrow
Crash
Like my hope and faith
Crash
Like the snow that took his life
Crash
Like my tears to the ground
This... this is grief.
Adjusting to the "new normal" people promise takes time, it takes so long: every object a trigger to a memory, every person a connection, every landmark a slight absence because he should be there.
He should be here.
And I can't even grieve publicly. People didn't know we were friends, didn't know all the inside jokes and connections I had with him. To be on the boat of grieving would seem like I jumped on last minute for the popularity, when in reality a had a ticket in my pocket for four years.
I know this poem wasn't the best quality, but I hope my words at least explained to you what I've gone through, and I hope you appreciate that.
He always did.
YOU ARE READING
Translation
PoetryThere are days where I get so confused or befuddled that my thoughts all come out in puddles, raining backwards and forewords, sideways and upways I pick up a pen and I pick up a notebook and when I'm done the whole world looks A little brighter...
