She dropped hints and showed signs before it came to this,
but everyone remained a silent witness.
Now all that's left: to place on her cold skin, a kiss;
to accept that you've lost someone you'll always miss;
to say to the casket, "I'm sorry and goodbye";
to lie in your room at night in regret and cry;
to know saying, "I did all I could" is a lie;
to know that she didn't deserve or need to die;
to ask yourself in silence "Is it all my fault
that she will never grow up to be an adult?"
You, and others, belong to your own kind of cult:
of people who watched and chose to interfere not.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Collection
PoetryTable of Contents: You'll Know My Name Say Goodbye Not yet done...