death is a weird thing

My mother came into my room and I, half asleep, heard her say, "your sister is dead". 

I rolled over and sat up in bed.

She had been crying, it wasn't a joke.

I still don't know how I fell asleep with that in mind.

I woke to a note, my mother had already left.

I remember my coach being kind.

I remember the day being a blur, repressed in my mind., 

but somehow, I managed that sad day.

Death is a weird thing, you know?

My mind ran astray,

Unwilling to process that information and acknowledge the facts.

I will never understand, but on that day, it was not until I saw where she lay;

I cried.

Lifeless. Serene. Emotionless. 

Beautiful.

She looked as though she didn't know what happened. 

That day a piece of me died.

No one was there to hold me in my despair.

Death is a weird thing, I should know.

It brings family together, but burdens their souls, Taking a life, but joining a community.

Death cannot be blamed when going through strife, weighing down on the agony of life.

Death is a weird thing, we all should know.