Remember. remember,
The fifth of November,
Gunpowder, treason and plot.

But forget we will,
For worse days still,
Overshadow the whole ****** lot.

In these modern days,
Though we're miles away,
From those old times we almost forgot.

Still hangings and lashings,
Democracies crashing,
And freedom just left there to rot.

I'm drowning in the stiff upper lip silence of the room draped in black.
Mourning, they say. Mourning for loss. Sorry, they say. Sorry this happened.
She was young, so vibrant. There was light and life and joy in her eyes. There was so much for her, they say.
But I saw the way life embraced her and left her skin greying and her breath ragged. She wasn't okay and there wasn't anything vibrant about her and when I begged her to talk to me, or not to me, but to someone, to get help, to please keep breathing, she refused me.
Why was I the only one who saw her fall to pieces?
Why didn't they help her?
why is she gone?
I don't understand.

He was like an angel that fell from heaven


*But so was Lucifer