Poem.
5 steps to the right, 1 step up, turn left and walk 4 steps up; enter the..
Hospital room.
It was the day, you were murdered by the person we often
called 'Death.' All the love, you recieved before seemed to
drip down off the knife, and your chest seems so hollow now.
It was if we were slowly leaving from the inside of your heart,
in a single file line; I have been finding you in polaroid photo
-graphs, hoping some map would lead me to the trace of the
gushing wind that hit me when I was told you were gone.
Taken away from our grasps, you were gone from this world.
You see, you were always the person who smiled in photographs,
smiled during the pain and smiled when you cried for home
when we were still young, I could remember the blood rushing
to your heart as it pump against your lungs. I can always remember
the air exchange through your lungs to your trachea and larynx.
I only know, it has been a while since I took a breath now. I know,
that other people has fled away in their cars and ran away but I
spent my past days, raising up a glass of a cold void.
I only know I have spent days, using my veins hoping; it'll bring
me to the borders of the countries where I found you. Parts of you,
in the boy who sang his heart out, the girl who had the part of you
in her smile; it felt as if your voice was held back behind her teeth.
It was only felt like yesterday where I broke down in front of everyone.
I have always been committed. Never in murder, I slowly realized,
Death had always been lonely like me, but worse. I slowly realized,
that some people's brillance can't be shown to light forever to be
only covered by darkness. I only wish to find the parts of you, I knew.
7 steps right, 4 steps up, turn right, 8 steps forward now, now face,
the truth.
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