by Sarah Michelle
October 31, 2014
You didn't see the chapel scraping to fill halfway,
or the heartbreak of people smiling through tears.
There's something morbid about little girls in a graveyard.
Something about pink sweaters against pale bodies and taking roses to take them,
not to put them on the casket.
I've seen too many funerals in my 18 short years.
The first time I met death was at 7 years old:
and here I thought I paid my dues.
but the painful decay of a hospital is something I haven't learned to deal with,
and I think God will keep giving me silence filled Emergency rooms, until I learn.
the florecent fish in the hallway are the
only things that look remotely happy,
but if you take a closer peek, you'll see
they're just as miserable as the rest of us.
Cooped up like prisoners in this clown house of grief
Oxygen monitors. Complimentary cheese cubes.
Questions and prayers that God can't answer.
If you think your few months of college have seasoned you into adulthood,
wait until you hit the grill.
No comments:
Post a Comment