Kill All Your Friends

Kill All Your Friends

 

People arrive soon after at our house

for the get-together celebrating Tyler.

 

I sit in my room

and scowl at the lively chatter downstairs.

One would think it would be solemn

and maybe hushed

and tearful.

 

But no.

Lively.

 

It makes me sick.

Maybe, though, I'm just being too mournful.

 

I wonder,

can one be too mournful over

their brother's death?

 

Forcing my feet to hold my weight

I walk over to my bed

and plop clumsily down.

My iPod is resting next to my pillow

and I click it on.

Put it on shuffle.

Unplug the earbuds

so the noise will fill the room

and hopefully give me a kind distraction.

 

I hear the words, but the irony is too great.

I scowl.

We all want to party when

the funeral ends.

And we all get together when

we bury our friends.

It's been eight bitter years since

I've been seeing your face `round here---

 

I click it off

and toss it across my room.

It lands on my floor where

I'll probably step on it later.

 

I guess I can't rely on My Chemical Romance

to cheer me up.

No denying, though, that the words are true.

It makes me sad to know that they are.

Author's Note

Feedback is a crucial part of the writing process. Probably the best thing you can offer me. So drop me a line??? :)

Oh, and this story WILL pick up, and soon! Within the next two chapters.