36

I feel as lifeless as him

as the body I saw hanging limp

a twisted creature that sees nobody

but myself within

My heart trembles at the sight

that replays in my mind

that life is so innocently taken

for I am not special and maybe I am the same

just another body to drive by sadly forsaken

My eyes are finally open

for I can see the darkness is bright

It reflects, moon shining, enviously at me

that life simulates nothing but antagonising blight.

Quivering lip, salted dry tears,

his years before me closed, abrupt, gone.

But life is fleeting, the good and the bad

because 36 feels quick, when that’s all you had.