The Death of Purity

A friend, a sister, a little butterfly

Day after day these wretched days go by

Wednesday we laughed until our stomachs would ache

Thursday i heard you would no longer wake

“The world doesn’t stop for anyone” they said

But for a few of us it did when we heard you were dead

Some days i remember the jokes we would share

But then of course it becomes too hard to bare

Other days i imagine your fear

That the sound of a bullet becomes too clear

I’m sorry it seems many have forgotten

But i still check your messages way too often.

This poem is about: 
Me

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