Burial

A Poem by Aramey

Crimson,
the color of cleansing flesh
seeps through tears, jagged
like a nail bitten edge.
And you stand...
blood on both hands,
ignorant to the pyre
you thrust trust upon.
But the mirror haunts the echo of your face
you WATCHED, with idle hands and idle mind,
as the sledge hit the shin,
cracked, bone splitting scream.
And yet, you did nothing.
Nothing more than the world today, you say.
excusing yourself, of course,
to avoid the gut wrenching guilt in pain.
Memories where BOTH your lives were saved,
think back, to things only friends can understand.
Ask yourself- is it worth the pain in silence...

while friendship falls between your fingers
and you continue to bury it
deep within the sand.