It’s Sunday morning as I peer out my window into the morning sky.

I sense that something is off as I see crowds of people pass me by.

 

A funeral is being held only miles away.

In the distance I see a casket where a lifeless body must lay.

 

Tear streaked faces gather awaiting the sound of the church bell.

This person was loved, that I can tell.

 

I see a glimpse of a girl who is made to look her best.

I realize this is the outfit she will forever wear as she’s being laid down to rest.

 

This person was loved, that I can tell.

People are telling countless stories that cause my eyes to start to swell.

 

Curiosity has the best of me and I start to feel brave.

No one seems to notice as I head towards her grave.

 

When I look into the grave I start to cry for now I can see.

I was loved but now it’s too late because the face that stares back belongs to me.

 

I realize now I just wanted a way out.

The first word spoken, I wanted to shout

 

The first sentence began, “Life was so tough”

I never felt like I was good enough.

 

 

 

 

This is the poetry piece I created for work-shopping in creative writing.