Death Of A Child

When I was a child, at school,

I lost a perfumed eraser,

Green border on top,

For days I cried.

Now I am losing my world,

signing it off to destruction,

life catapulted with weapons,

graying the verdure

of being together

as friends, family, neighbors.

With painful words,

Adulterated actions,

The infinite stage, not an eraser, is breaking apart wild

Intelligently;

But I have learned to endure,

Now, I am an adult as far as I can see.

As a result, waters do not break

from the eyes, not a drop of tear

rolls down my cheek, and coagulate like a lake

or inundate like an overflowing river,

For long forlorn, the child

in me, went still and died.