Posted on April 23, 2014
In a chapel,
An 18 year old ended his soul,
Because dear john ended his love.
The round pierced the morning breeze,
As the desert sand blew beneath the trees.
Before his lips could taste the bitter war,
Blood left his heart and filled the wood planked floor.
Did he ever think “will they hate me?”
Or that his wounded heart would bring him to safety,
From a world where love can hurt and lies are found,
To a place where the sun never sets and beauty abounds.
And if we are brave enough to face this world,
Is our reward the numbers of tears that flood the grave as we’re returned to earth?