The Bed With a Lid

This story begins with a girl in bed sleeping, It's very silent, not a sound to be heard. I’m sitting on a chair next to her bed glaring blankly at her. I thought to myself she looks cold, but I did nothing not wanting to move so I continued to stare at her. By now you think I’m insane sitting next to a girl's bed staring at her,  and from the context you’ve either read this from or heard it from I understand why you’d think I’m insane. Yet I’m not alone, staring at her there are many more people in the rows behind me glaring at her yet they're not insane, slow music begins to play on a piano as a man in a robe walk to the front and starts speaking to the crowd very loudly. The girl doesn't wake up and I wonder If she's a heavy sleeper. Then everyone stands and looks to the floor the man in the front speaking beautiful words of sorrow, I’m the only one sitting still glaring at this young girl tears running down my face now “wake up” I mutter under my tears “please wake up” I repeat multiple times. The people sit down most of them huddled together crying on one another. The music gets louder as the piano player glares down at the keys ignoring the crowd. “For it was not her time to die!” The man in front says loudly this was the only thing I made of his words through my tears. Two men walk out and close the lid over her bed and pick her bed up her still inside and walk out many people fall to the floor crying and many run outside in tears. Once the meeting ends I glare at her parents sitting only one row behind me there holding one another crying loudly, There son next to them crying louder than everyone. I look around the room and everyone is crying, I stand up in tears and walk outside and down the pathway muttering to myself “She's Just Sleeping”

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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