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.