Poem

This is a poem I wrote a few months ago, but forgot about. The tone of it is rather dark. Sorry!

Negative, like a photograph or the digits before zero

courage that is transitory, like a forgotten hero

ripped like a bandaid, fresh off a wound

jagged as a branch that has yet to be pruned

you cut the happiness, a gunshot through silence

blatantly the cause of all this pain & violence

your words struck me as a freight train

always echoing, echoing in my brain

death is so permanent, it takes more than a few

there’s nothing left, except the pieces of you

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