three on each side... body laid up as silence closes the mind... off to the memory tucked away from the everyday seesaw... but who to carry such a lost cause.?. most don't care when one is alive so not jus anyone can stand next to the final stage... motionless n unable to help luv'd ones painful face... as the wonder of why do others even pretend they care... goodbyes were already established as life flowed through tares... free from lips that feel the need to bury hatchets in the backside of friendships... six of the closest gather to lift what remains of who is truly missed... lined up n hands on the handle before put on display beneath the chuckles that are to laugh... becoming the only thing to be is defined as left in the past... with real tears that fall harder than the flowers it takes to drop from fingertips... the beauty of life gone breaks hearts felt on the release of nibs... the pack surrounds what's to be splintered years later well below the surface shoved in a box... lowered is the welcoming of true fate hidden from the click of clocks... where hate never enters the soil capturing the will to move... in the end there's a selected few goin left right left, right on cue...
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