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Funeral for Lost Innocence
She lies still on the couch -
not a sound can be heard -
and gazes at the ceiling,
but her mind is elsewhere.
Mourners - friends and family -
have gathered here to cry;
a beautiful prophet dies.
She still writes her poems
of sadness, loss, and hope,
but she has given up
on finding the help she needs.
She stays by her friends, but
times of innocence are gone.
Changes come suddenly,
and we can only hope
what comes now is happier.
So here we stand, watching
as the prophet's eyes close
and she passes to nothing;
we comfort each other,
'At least we knew her then.
Let's hope for the future.'
It's little solace, I know.
And the funeral ends,
deep sighs breaking silence.
