Young Writers Society

Guess who's back?
Haven't been here for a while
Still focus, contemplating, thinking
Further sinking into abyss
Then climbing back on top of this
Is this a circle, a cycle, a test?
Whatever, don't know what's best
Action, reaction, reason
Revolt, death, treason.
Why? Don't know - we'll never know

Keep moving.
Though still four years on, he's the reason
I cry, don't sleep, sometimes don't eat
Every so often creeps back into view
Only for me to temporarily push back, only to rise again.
Still I ponder, write, fight with demons.
Scribble thoughts down, only to be discarded for want of better words I cannot find.
To explain- why?

And as the floor fell through upon us, how would it all end?
Keep going- ask why only in the back of a mind obsessed with books, answers
The boy constantly writing as the only outlet.
Torn apart, brought together.
Through the asking of the quetion- Why?

Still I ponder as I write
How would it all end
As another replaced it though it is still vivid in the back of the mind
In a smile, a thought
Of what was supposed to be
What was not to be
And what should have been in another form before it all collapsed upon us.