In Loving Memory

Sitting on my bed,
My sheets covered in blood,
I write my final poem to the world.

You don't even seem to notice
That I am no longer in the room,
That I am gone.
But then again,
That's because you act as though
I'm already dead.

Yeah, I read the eulogy you wrote for me.
Ok, so the words were kind of touching,
Yet they had nothing to do with me.
They were loving,
But not aimed at my life.
They were inspiring,
But not about me.

How could you have done this?
I'm not dead, you know!
I've been standing in front of you
Screaming and ranting,
But you just ignore me.
What was I supposed to do
To make you see me,
Hear me,
Acknowledge me,
Love me?

The last line of the eulogy
Plays over in my head again and again.

"In loving memory of our darling daughter".

God, I hate you for that!
But at least now you'll have a reason
To read out your specially written tribute,
Because it was all your false words
And all my fake smiles
That have led me to this point.
I'll put down my pen,
Smear the blood off my face,
Wrap myself in my crimson-stained sheet
And softly depart this life...

Copyright©JosieWentzel22January2008