Going back to the church,
I remember walking up the aisle,
Looking at all the people,
And placing a rose on the pile.

So many young faces,
Came to say good-bye.
They take one look up,
Then turn to cry.

Three people lie before all,
Resting peacefully.
I stand before them,
And pray they will rest blissfully.

I placed three roses,
As a symbol of this feeling.
I wish I knew,
If my heart would ever stop this bleeding.

The world lost more then just people,
They were the only real friends I had.
I feel so alone now in this world,
Nothing left to feel but painfully sad.

I force out my last good-byes,
Between outbursts of tears.
And hope they will look over me,
In the following years.

Copyright © 2002 Mike Morand. All rights reserved.