The Fifth

I see it again.

Not from us,

but from her,

the silly sister,

the most cheerful of us all.

We were slumped,

I saw it.

We were wasting away,

and I knew it.

We were dying,

and she was scared of it.

Suddenly snapping out of the grief filled haze,

I saw my sister's face.

Filled with joy,

but also with growing horror,

and anger.

What we lost

to regain out lives,

I wouldn't know.


if i could once again

see my sis

acting like an idiot

and not a rage filled monster bathing in sorrow,

I would remember.

I would remember,

what it was,

to not see my sister like that, once again.

Like what we were,

a shadow of the mourning,

was stamped into her being.

Making her,

a shell.

A fake,

of what she was.

And I'll say,

once again,

to not have that,



would remember

and fall,

into what was once, but not now.