Pity

Your final thoughts, your final words.
Oh how I wish I knew them.
Instead they were tragically playing out in your mind,
like a vibrant montage of your grounded memories.
Just behind your empty blue eyes they race, faster than a hellbent bullet train.
I will never know them, never possess the knowledge to understand.
I’m not even sure if that’s really what your eye color was, nothing about your flesh and bone existence seems real anymore.
From your Metallica and AC/DC, to your perfect school image,
everything is a fictional charade.
Pieces and parts colliding together to form something human and breathing.
Did you feel any pain as you strung yourself up, waiting for your feet to touch the ground,
fully aware that you never will?
Was it painless or did you run into complications?
Not the swiftest of exists sometimes, I could only imagine.
You chose a noose, while others might have branded a gun or glass.
I written about you once and cried over you twice, a clever understatement I hope you know.
I have no pity for you, only sadness and collected fits of rage.
There was help somewhere out there, you went by other means.
I only hope one day we can walk where the stills and screenshots of our lives are in slow motion.
Relive those moments and make our own destiny.
For you are not in any concept of Heaven nor that of Hell, there is no such place.
You’re alive forevermore in the hearts that still beat strong.

© Copyright June  2011

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