Our beloved T. (Poetry)

[Tren]

Not a poet, but I write poems about my problems that I can’t figure out,

all does not have rhythm but it rhymes in my head,

Instead, I cry and shead tears for my fears that never disappears, I can appear to be fine, But I’m busy trying to claim the life that was mine.

I’ll be fine my friend, I stand here today on behalf of her who spirit shattered in pieces long ago

Her peace is her love and soul, behold her hate is sold to evil, attempt to take control of the happiness she once had before.

Now the good could shine like gold in cold ice and sorrow disposed in fire.

So as I retire these past feelings and desires, bury them underground topped with flowers,

We remember the member who took over our sister within her.

-tren.-

Fall 2017