Isn't it funny how you can be out-of-sight, out - of - mind, yet you can walk through a specific part of town, during the aftermath of rain fallen on hot cement, and not think twice about it. You can be in a park full of children laughing, giggling, playing, and be ignorantly blinded of the fact that in two..three years, these children will no longer be children, but growing lost souls trying to find a meaning, a purpose, in this world instead.

Don't any of you people find it the least bit intreging that there's so many things in this world that go unseen, unknown, unspoken? Who is the keeper of all of lifes secrets? Is it some mystery magic man above us, with a treasure box of all the secrets those people who have left this journey and returned home; left through their passing? Or does the mystery lie in the little blessings here on earth? The blessings those unappreciative women carry for nine months, only to pop them out and shrug them off. Who rid them at any given chance, who think the crayola markings on the wall are so important, who think the raised laughter, and the voices, in the backseat of a ten hour travel ; are unbearable. Who scream and yell and threaten at any sign of "disobidence", who take the little things for granted, a little too often.

How could this happen to me? How is it fair? Who do I blame, when you don't know who done the thing that crushed you? Who took it upon themselves to decide he wasn't meant for this world? Who took it upon themselves to decide I wasn't going to be a good enough mother? Who was to say, his life was over - before it even started? Who do I blame? Who do I direct this anger towards?

Why did they torture me? How can you let a grieving mother lie in a hospital bed, on the same floor with all of these happy families, listening to their babies scream and cry, while mine lies on my chest with his pores bleeding, his face swelling, and an eager wait to see one sign of breath, only later to be wisked away. Instead of going home, he went to the morgue.

As the days proceed, my mind has a way of reminding me of all things that have been lost. The innocence, youth, intellegance.. I wonder at times if I'm the only one in this crowded world, who still sees things for their simplicity.


I guess you were just too beautiful for this ugly world.