Her aunt was gone in a hollow breeze,
faster than the dirt falling on the cold
dry wood
Or the drops dripping down
from their stone-hard masks,
leaving stains of sorrow and ache
On their dark elegant silhouettes.

Their beloved grandpa,
we’ve been dueling for many years now,
rested on his marshmallow bed.

His multicolored sounds winked proudly at them.

One night,
I had finally won as he slipped to the other side.
At last, I was ready to move on
as the flames and ashes ate away at us.

As the gray fog fills their lungs,
I begin to hurt deeper than guns.
The ultra-violet needles raining down,
pierce their paper flesh,
burrowing deep into their skin.
It will not be long before
the doctors find me,
the fuel of their sorrow
and the poison which they follow.