i thought i could sit here and write a poem about this, about what i was feeling but i can't. the words seem contrived and wrong. i thought i could say what i really felt and make this ugly tragesy into something more beautiful that maybe somebody would read and connect with but the truth of it is, the tragedy has no way f making itself beautiful. even now these words are all wrong but i'm letting my fingers move and say what they want i suppose.
i didn't even know him all that well but he was always around
he was always smiling
he was always having fun even when everybody else was disintegrating from stress
when he got sick, sure i was worried, we all were
but when does an 18 or 19 year old ever die from being sick?
when does the thin veil of invincibility tear and let a few of us drop from the face of the earth?
god, it isn't fair.. where is he now?
did it have to be this way?
could we have stopped it?
i'm not sure if the heaviness in me is my malnutrition
or if it's him ghosting in my blood and making my heart seize
he's gone he's really gone and all he'll ever be now, is gone
appreciate the dawn breaking above you
appreciate each breath, each thought, each tremble of the finger
because it is life, ugly or not, at least you are not gone
into a void where god knows what happens
does god know? look at your body
thank it for being, for taking, for growing
we'll miss you. i can't forget the first close encounter with death
although it did not take me, it entered me
we'll miss you.
