Sometimes I want to appologize for all the breaths I take that she can't.
The sympathetic "it will get betters" always met by a blank stare and a disembodied voice screaming from somewhere deep in the room crying out WHEN?
Do you ever think late at night that this can't be what God had instore for us.
If so then what did her death teach us?
That sorrowcomes wrapped in a beautiful, bright box. Dancing haphazardly on the heart strings of everyone it entrances, and opens like Pandora's box engulfing every single thing in it's wake. Leaving tear drops the size of oceans and broken dreams so sharp and jagged you could cut a smile across the plaster face of grief and SPIT out venomously the words "I'm fine."
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 8:26 PM UTC
Sometimes I want to appologize for all the breaths I take that she can't.
The sympathetic "it will get betters" always met by a blank stare and a disembodied voice screaming from somewhere deep in the room crying out WHEN?
Do you ever think late at night that this can't be what God had instore for us.
If so then what did her death teach us?
That sorrowcomes wrapped in a beautiful, bright box. Dancing haphazardly on the heart strings of everyone it entrances, and opens like Pandora's box engulfing every single thing in it's wake. Leaving tear drops the size of oceans and broken dreams so sharp and jagged you could cut a smile across the plaster face of grief and SPIT out venomously the words "I'm fine."
Request permission to use this poem