Pisaries Creator

Stepped up to the podium
all adult like, no child leftover,
and with orange on her shirt,
it shouldn't have been there,
but her mouth had two holes
and nothing to fill in the 
second gap.

They all knew
what was going to happen,
and could not stop it.
The pain of knowing the end
was full of sorrow and guilt,
couldn't do anything.

Most nights there was silence,
from room to room,
nothing was heard and seen,
and everyone knows death comes,
and for some it comes too early,
for others it comes not soon enough.

Reached out and touched her hand,
five fingers were there, but no life,
each of them had died 
in the darkness, 
the lightbulbs burnt out after 
they were screwed in.

All the brains didn't have enough power,
and what a shame that was,
because they belonged,
in photo albums, on records, 
in newspapers and in magazines,

No one would speak of this
from far away and the closeness
hid behind their doors and walls.
Phone me to come back,
let me hear your voice tell me,
the screaming has stopped inside.