Forsaken soul
Taking root in a land thought barren
Or hostile
Or uninhabitable

Where the water is poison

The air toxic

Will your vines slip through the cracks,
Dandelion?
Will you be the ****
That blossoms in the summer
And leaves yellow stains on
The palms of our hands?

Will we cut your roots down?

Will we shut out the sun?

Do we shake the earth with cloven hooves
And break the stone?

Maybe you'll **** the water supply dry

Or maybe you'll just **** the poison out

Life is so fragile.
Even the act of silence can shatter it's very existence.

It wasn't me.
I didn't know her,
but I could have.

It makes me think-what if...

You were gone,
due to my ignorant self,
who hid your harm from the adults.

You were gone,
because I removed the glass,
that protected you from the 100 ft drop.

You were gone,
due to a simple night out,
that caused you to slip back to old habits.

You were gone,
because I wasn't there to help,
and talk you down from the edge.

You were gone,
due to my lack of knowledge,
and misunderstanding of the situation.

You were gone,
because of an accident,
that made you lose control.

What if you were gone

It could have been me picking up the phone,
giving a cheerful hello on the dreary day,
only to have my soul shatter, when the news was given.

It could have been me thinking of what I did wrong,
asking just to hear a voice, a whisper,
something acknowledging existence-Only to be given no answer.

Life is so fragile.
Why must we add to the cracks in the glass of another person's life?