Pigtails Against the World

A black dress draped off me Flowing with the wind Following the crowd Roses clutched in my hands Alone in the crowd I stood No one bothered to watch me Not passing most of their hips I was invisible Fixing my pigtails I watched her go down Six feet down No hands held my shaking wrists Tears streamed without a mother's kiss Shoulders hunched over without a father's hug Seven years old Too young to be at a funeral At a funeral alone