To the ones I’m leaving behind

Why are the flowers, withered

yet so charming

Why is it that your year long enemy

is not a bad person to you now

Why is it that people are sad

I don’t see a solid reason

Everything is so graceful

full of life

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If I die

Be it lidocaine patches to alleviate the chronic;
Be it the shawl she wraps tight around her hips;
Be it the cramps that’s making her semi-conscious;
Be it the people who are adding nothing but strains;
Be it the girl, who can’t help what people think.

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