Work Text:
Would it change your mind
Knowing that I was there?
He simply becomes,
I only observe–
I leave myself to wither.
I sit outside the window
Motionless.
If I am seen,
I would have to reveal my truth,
My hurt,
My heart.
And that would simply be too much.
“But he loved living!”
I would beg–
Yet the sun still rose that day,
And set as he decided.
And I realise he hadn’t died that December night,
But the minute he was born.
He hadn’t lived a day in his life.