I hope your heart is as a child.

Joyful and full of laughs.

The world is not good,

but there is good out there.

 

You could die in a car crash.

Not everyone will cry for you.

But someone will.

It might be me.

 

By the time I got there,

it looked like a giant had been playing rubix cube with her car.

The mangled steel for feelings lost.

For death is just a loss of starts.

It looked like a piece of modern art.

Angled like a lovers face, gazing at the stars.

Trickle blood trickle down to kiss your hand at last.

Sing a song to dirt and ash,

for deaths door we each shall pass.

 

I looked back at the twinkling lights,

they sang a death march down the road.

A dirge of sirens sang her soul to sleep.

I gasped at the tragedy I shall never unsee.

But in all these things at last. The question I have yet to ask.

Who placed those flowers on the crash scene?

 

They were yellow flowers,

I don't know what kind, but they looked happy.

So out of place they caught my eye.

Somebody placed them there, and it wasn't the callused rescue crew.

Did some stranger put

themselves in a dangerous spot

to place flowers like a grave plot?

 

No.

These flowers were her soul.

Or not.

I don't know.

 

All I know is that her death affected me,

I don't even know who she used to be.

But when ever I see happy flowers.

I'll think think of her.

 

I hope your heart is like a child.

Easily broken, but quick to mend.

The world is not bad.

But it does get bad out there.