It hurts to see you hold back tears.
More than it hurts to see you cry, I think.
Hurts to see your twisted body in pain
Hear your gasping breath.
Hurts to help you with little things.
Hurts to see you fail.
Hurts to see you left out
Secluded by your body.
It hurts to know this is the last.
I know it is.
Don't want to believe it,
But it's repeatedly shoved down my throat,
Doctors, family, friends.
So what else do I believe?
God, it hurts.
You're too young to go.
Sweet sixteen.
I wish you could drive.
I wish you could dance with us at homecoming
And go out for the soccer team.
I wish you could come to school
And complain along with us about chemistry.
I wish you could sing along to the radio still
But it's getting so much harder.
I hate this.
Hate to see you taken now.
Hate to see you die.
Not death-
Dying.
For years now.
Sixteen.
God, you're too young.
I hate trying not to cry when I see you.
I hate everyone else for acting differently.
They all know this is the last time.
I hate trying to act normal.
I hate lying awake and not sleeping anymore.
I hate wondering when.
I hate crying as much as I do now.
Both of us holding back tears.
Emotional exhaustion.
I'm shredded.
Don't cry.