A September breeze blows,
The village green, I find myself
Wrapped in my jacket, clenched fists
Now I have so little, but my dog and my health
Charlie, my dog, runs carelessly about
With his white, perky tail wagging
I crouch by a pine tree, needles surround
Daggers run through my head, strangling
My composition, self esteem. The ground,
Wet from a late night storm. I was once
A team, now that is only in my dreams.
The sun does not pass through the thick
Blanket of clouds, as I look down
I see my remnants buried six feet
Below the wet dirt, the grey, cold stone
Reads ‘Rest In Peace’