Walking to the station
Like a zombie lost in grief,
I reflect on what I lost
In the bathroom just last week.
I stare down at the ground,
Not watching where I walk
And bump into a man;
The kind who likes to talk.
'Cheer up love' he says,
As my anger slowly grows,
'It can't be all that bad' -
I feel my heart implode.
I could've walked on by
And left him to his day,
But I have a way with words
And I had a lot to say:
"Please don't call me 'love'
Or tell me to 'cheer up',
As if your empty words
Could ever be enough.
I'm sorry if my frowning
Is messing with your mood,
But it really is 'that bad'
And you don't have a clue.
The burden that I carry
Is really ******* bleak.
So no I won't 'cheer up' -
My baby died last week."
He stares at me in silence
And hangs his head in shame.
Now he's a zombie just like me
We go our separate ways.