The symbol of life is a heart.

The steady thrum- the steady beat.

We all dread the flat line.

When we hear that sound-

That constant monotone sound,

We know they’re gone.

When the idea finally sinks in,

You feel your nose crinkle up,

Your jaw clenches,

And your throat contracts,

You can’t breath.

You gasp for breath as it sinks in-

They’re gone.

When you heard they were hurt,

You hoped and prayed

They would be alright.

You told yourself they would be fine-

And then they weren’t.

They were gone-

but you still couldn’t believe.

No no it was fine-

Everything was fine.

You ignored the hole in your heart.

But everything was not fine.

You may ignore what you see,

What you feel,

You can bottle it up so no one sees.

But then you will see something,

Hear something,

And you’ll remember-

You’ll remember the pain-

The bottle will smash on the floor,

And your emotions will fly out.

You’ll fall to the floor and cry.

The pain will never seem to stop.

And in a way-

It never does.

They’re gone.

They’re gone.

They’re gone.