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Dec 2014
The crowd watches, crying silently.
Three figures gather around a black coffin with a red trim.
They all lay a gentle hand on top the shining surface.
Tears fall down their faces, not for the first time.
They all move to their rightful places on the stage, the fallen brother in the center.
They start playing a set, dedicated to the Killjoy the world though would never die.
As the first note to “Welcome to the Black Parade” is heard, people begin to break down.
They play the cheerful songs as well, though they aren’t as much.
They’re crying as the memories of life with him swim through their heads.
“NaNaNa,” plays in a slower way.
More of a painful cry for the moment.
They struggle on, through the songs, each remembering how it felt to play together as a family.
Each feeling that it’s different now, it’s not whole.
And as the last song came to be played, they all remembered their band’s last concert.
People became hysterical, as “Famous Last Words” plays on.
Citizens across the globe cry, as they say goodbye to their hero.
And as they all watch the casket being lifted and carried down the aisle and to the hearse, they all, united as one being, whisper quietly, “…so long and goodnight…so long…and goodnight…”
And as people all around hug each other in a desperate attempt to comfort and be comforted,
One person smiles.
He’s there, though they cannot see.
He wipes their tears away, though they cannot feel.
He tells them, “It’ll be okay,” “He’s here,” and “They’ll see him soon.”
They do not hear.
But deep inside they know he’s there,
Smiling bitter-sweetly as he wipes their tears,
Hugging them, as he whispers words of comfort,
Because they all secretly know,
That a Killjoy Never Really Dies.
Written 10-26-24
Shyanna Ashcraft
Written by
Shyanna Ashcraft  West Virginia
(West Virginia)   
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