Poetry of Fox

My Special Day

Flowers fill this room, on this, my special day,
As I lie here thinking, I'd rather go out and play;
Friends and family, have come because of me,
I can sense them near, as I strain so to see.

Their words are weak, as though far, far away,
I struggle to hear, what they are trying to say;
There is great lamenting, I just don't understand,
Why are you so distant, just come hold my hand.

I suddenly remember, the party from last week,
Acceptance from my friends, is what I did seek;
They told me it was so cool, to try crystal meth,
What good is living, without the thrill of death?

A parent shouldn't, have to bury their young,
To miss out on all, of the songs left unsung;
To hold them tightly, when the day is through,
And whisper to them again, oh, how I love you.

Yet now I cannot go, to these people who care,
All I can do is lie, in this cold coffin and stare;
Flowers fill the room, on this, my special day,
Watered by sad tears, for I have passed away.

Fox