Crazy, insane, she thought she was
And the asylum collapsed
As a dilapidated one does

The death too strong
The pain too near,
Yet at the funeral she cried not
one tear.

She met a boy,
with accent strong.
And his curly brown hair
seemed not too long.

With his crooked smile
And perfect teeth,
She could feel herself wavering,
Becoming weak.

They both had dark secrets
Yet told one another,
But only at the necessity
Of rescuing her brother.

Some time has passed
Yet she sees him again
the one she used to call her old
Boyfriend.

Was this a hallucination?
Some PTSD?
"Or is this him standing
in front of me?"