Ignorant children,
And a melancholy atmosphere.
A hole opened in my chest when I saw him,
Almost as if he shot me.
Only a child,
But he was a spitting image of the dead,
And it destroyed me from the inside out.
His chubby fingers grasped mine;
I bit my lip to keep from falling apart.
She saw my looks of distress
And she took him from me.
I locked myself away.
Buried in an igloo of sheets,
My soul flowed from my heart
And out through my eyes.
Death held his child
Showing me how It had taken him away.
I almost wish that Death held me too
So that I could forget for a moment
That I am alive.