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