It is really sad to know that you’re already gone. The memory of our last conversation still lingers in my mind. It was the time when my other grandpa died and you were the one who played the piano for him. That was only three months ago. Now, you are the one who’s lying in that wooden box painted with white and gold, surrounded with white flowers– cold and breathless.
Yes. There will be no big and chubby old man who’ll visit us whenever he wanted. There will be no old guy who’ll play the piano for the dead and living as awesome as you. There will be no one as good as you.
I wish we could have had a different reason to talk to each other. I wish it is anything but about someone who died. I could wish for more.
I could wish endlessly but I know I’d still be hopeless because wishes sometimes remain as mere wishes.
They can never be brought to reality. They can never be brought to life… just like you.
Now, as I end this message, I am wishing you a good night and a good rest… forever. I love you, Lolo.
Maybe that’s the inevitable part of growing up. You tend to become too emotional– more emotional than when you were a cry baby. As you grow old, every tear that will fall from those eyes will mean something more than a plea for some milk. Maybe the reason’s about a barely failing relationship. Or it can be about a dying family member. No. Maybe, it will be about your own guilt about every bit of mistake that you’ve done and that you can never undo anymore.
I told you. People become more emotional while growing up. But at the end of the entire process, you might not feel anything anymore. You might feel like you accomplished nothing all through out your whole life. But you won’t care because you can’t do anything anymore. That’s the moment when we forgot everything… and we die silently and slowly without feeling anything emotional. We die as our memories in this wrecked world die with us.
I can see the world where humans dwell
Black magic is everywhere
I can hear the heavy rain pouring
As the tears continued to fall
I yearn to ease their pain
But I am not able to touch them
The filthy dark soil became wet now
Yet they continued to dig my grave
The mortals wore black
And they continued to weep
I wish there’s a way to go back
But my story already ended
An end in a tragic and unforgiving way
I pleaded to kill my killer
But then I couldn’t find him anywhere
He vanished the day I vanished
He died the day I died
It was too unfair that I couldn’t have my vengeance
Because my sickness wasn’t alive
But then it managed to end my life.
I hope that you understood this poem. Thanks for reading! 🙂