Vibrant Face of Depression

To Atbin. Another flick, a spark, once more awakened the past Illustrating memories, are alive and always last. I recall your visage with its veins, its charm, and grace Some invisible griefs, behind of that bony face. Your tender artistic look at a silly Rubik’s parts, Made your endless affection indwelled into our hearts. You were our J. Keating in Weir’s intelligent mind And that remembrance fest that you held: one of a kind. For our liveliest buddy, we had toasted and we cheered But I saw a bloody band on your wrist was appeared. You smoked and you spoke with your own personal tone: “A dead soul would never need all of these; to be well known,” “Look the living, hey kiddo! and cherish their real worth.” I stared at the white band: accessible, open source… I thought it should be a band; you could have tied it with care Upon a pretty girl’s flowing and blonde hair. Not as the merciless rope tight around the skinny neck But just like the sign of love danced by the wind in a lake. hey, my friend! don’t be sad let me exactly define: Ne’er tribute to the dead but the lasting wound of mine.