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.