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No Peace, No Solace
I wish I could’ve whispered
To my young and clueless self
That this boy lives on a timer
This boy really needs help
It was already written down
By nature’s cruel hand
It was craved into the stars
He’ll try, but won’t withstand
One day I was in English class
I got a breaking message
I cried and screamed and cried aghast
And felt myself start retching
I clearly see, hung by the neck
Can clearly see his eye
Where before, a-light a-spec
Now gloss reflects the sky
The memories I try to keep
Are jumbled out of order
It’s been eight years, yet I still weep
From words he said, so morbid
It’s not our fault, it couldn’t be
We’re not psychics, not prophets
But I was part of that same guilt
Gave him no peace, no solace
Copyright ©
March Archer
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