Memoir

She's gone and found herself a friend again/ to her she's real as day as though she weren't imaginary/
the imagery inside her head is impossibly colorful and vibrant/ silent and profound/ I found her
diary beside her bed/ Never opened and never read by a single set of spying eyes/ or a
solitary prying mind/ I reason though she wouldn't mind/ after all my daughter's mine/ though troubled/
I lift up the cover trembling by what method I might discover her/ There lies on the page some words and a pair
of blood red roses and yellow daisies/ I'm guilty/ I'm fat/ I'm lazy/ is what it says/ I turn the next page that
beckons like the gravity of a dense star/ She starts the entry with words of hatred but words for who, for me/ for you/ for who?
and like reentry I'm burning with the curiosity of a new born babe/ she writ she's gonna
hang herself from behind the giant oak tree behind the house/ I muster courage to look outside
the silver shades and there she hangs/ in wind and rain/ A single tear sinks into the the haunting page of her memoir.

(this piece portrays the the moment when a mother has found out that her daughter intends to kill herself and how it's too late and is written in honor and respect for those who have gone through such a horrible situation.)