, , ,


Standing on the hard ground,

knowing you are 6 feet below

makes me feel like a betrayer;

I have betrayed you by living.


I know we said till death do us part

but I shouldn’t have made that pact.

I should have insisted to go with you

whenever death came for you.


The wind has suddenly

started to blow louder,

screaming in my ears.

All I hear is the silent cry of the breeze,

all I can feel is the little pat

on my shoulder

from sympathizers

who can’t feel my pain.


The crowd in black

have started to blur

into a muddle of black mist,

leaving me standing

6 feet above you;

alone in the black mist.