I Hate Funerals

A gathering of men and women dressed in black.
My mom and dad in the front, as I look over them
from the back.

From the back of the room I see a flood of sad tears.
My brother and my sister grieved with pain,
remembering childhood years.

Remembering childhood years, I see us growing.
Until I became so entrapped by my own darkness,
life was simple.

Life was simple, and yet it turned complex.
I could no longer stand the weight of the world,
burdening my shoulders.

Burdening my shoulders now is the thought of death.
While my spirit flies free from the realms of earth,
My family isn't free.
My family is left dealing with the death of me.

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