I hope you wore a sweater, in your favorite shade of blue. It gets cold in late November, (it gets darker faster, too)
I hope the shoes you wore fit snugly (even if your socks don't match) I hope your last day wasn't ugly, I hope the pain was over fast.
I'm sure you felt your sadness deeply, I'm sure you felt your heart ache too. When you took a walk when all were sleeping, in your favorite shade of blue.
I wonder what it felt like, to pick the perfect tree. To end your painful heartache, snug shoes on dangling feet.
But my most pressing question, that I would ask of you, is where did you lose your earbud? (you're wearing one, not two)
They moved you to the metal table, (the one that tilts down at an angle) They cut the sweater off you too, your favorite one in midnight blue.
They make their notes: your weight, your height. They check your shoulder width and write: "He will fit a standard casket" (they carry on with their assessment)
"Rope indentation - on the neck Eyes and fingers - blue and red Socks mismatching Nike shoes One earbud gone" (that's all I knew)
Tell me why'd you take that walk? I know the road ahead looked bare. Tell me how you chose a song. Did you brush your teeth and comb your hair?
Did it happen on a school night? (your file says you were in 12th grade) Did you tell your mom you loved her? - with your mind already made.
So to the boy with just one earbud, I'm sorry this world felt so wrong. I hope you're in your favorite sweater, and you're listening to your favorite song.
Written after reviewing a morgue case of a young boy who left the world too soon