I made preludes to understand loss.
I broke the rules,
I dont understand mathmatics,
My friend a disabled tragedy,
Convinced herself,
The rules are mathmatic.
I dont count on death the way a
Funeral home director makes his car payment.
Or howmany shards of glass are stuck in somebodys head.
She had to know something physics
The nite he died.
It was a first hand demonstration.
One of the those moments of inspiration.
She celibrates with a drink every nite.
Her walker makes sure you can walk straight.
And the bartender made sure hes ontop of
Every drink, like the lime in a plastic sword.
The juice is arsenic.
And she will slowly poison herself till she dies.