This poem is written about Lacey Womack and how I felt in the aftermath of her death. I dedicate this poem to her memory and to all her friends and family whose lives were rocked that fateful day on December 18, 1993.
Depression hits as I sit and realize,
Some write of love and its hurt when ended,
It has been almost a year since that day.
When the 18th and 19th roles around,
Why does Death steal the ones we need?
I wish I would've told her goodbye.
Copyright © 2002 Christopher Burns
That I'm alone inside; empty throughout.
This smile and happiness is just a disguise.
I'm empty if you I'm without.
But I'm not one of those.
I write about loe and in death it ended.
One writes best of what one knows.
I have come to almost put the pain behind.
Death came and took you away
And left me alone and sad; behind.
A tear may enter my eye,
Knowing you're 6 feet underground.
Wondering the answer to a question. Why?
It always seems to happen that way.
He always knows how to make the heart bleed.
He doesn't care and has nothing to say.
I wish I wasn't afraid to cry.
This depression happens now and again,
Because I miss a really dear friend.