by Alexis   Sep 4, 2015

He is not there.
He is flying where
no eagle lands,
no scythe cuts,
no green star shines.

This is what they left us:
the third place,
the crumbles,
the headlines
and some occasional
We can choose
our own death though.

He couldn't
because he was too young
but here
a thousand drow every day
and nobody knows.



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Latest Comments

  • 2 years ago

    by Cindy

    This is a very touching poem. I just read the news story about this right before I came to the site. Hopefully the world will have more compassion for the people stuck in situations they did not choose.
    Good job!