The girl in the coffin

Look at them all,
So unhappy and crying,
I don't understand why,
It's not like anyone's dying.

They're all dressed in black,
With faces starkly white,
All holding tissues,
Is everyone all right?

I don't understand,
Why is everyone like this?
Has something bad happened?
Is there something I missed?

Look at my mother
Crying by my side,
She looks like a lost little girl,
Longing to run and hide.

I try to comfort her,
Try to make her feel better,
But she takes no notice of me,
Her sobs getting louder, her face getting wetter.

Then I see the front of the church,
The young girl in the casket,
Another girl walking down,
Placing down the flowers in a basket.

I look at the girl in the coffin,
She looks a little like me,
Sharp green eyes,
Set off by the red locks, flowing and free.

She looks so sick,
Hands crossed on her chest,
Maybe she died from an illness,
Maybe it was for the best.

Her eyes are closed,
Her skin glowing and pale,
I shift a little to see her better
And let out a loud wail.

It's me in there!
But it can't be,
I'm alive,
How can it be me?

But as I get a little closer,
Begin to see her more,
I see that it is me,
Flowers strewn across the floor.

This is my funeral,
They're all here to say goodbye,
But I don't understand,
I didn't die!

They all go to leave,
Planting kisses on my cold forehead,
Begin to close the coffin,
But they can't, I'm not dead!

They can't do this to me!
Can't put me in the ground!
I scream so loud
But no one hears a sound...

© copyright of Holly Nia Goodson