Everyday I Mourn

Every day I mourn. Every day I think about how each day was spent.

The grey lakes, long bridges, old buildings, and deep strolls,

They all make me think of our time and how letters were sent.

Every day I cry. Every memory is a reminder of how we were fools.

Moving far away, things never the same, the stoic faces,

I tell myself my life was never a good one. Tears morph into pools.

Every day I can’t breathe. I think of how my existence is unimportant.

How people walk by knowing me, seeing me, yet do nothing,

They stare as I starve and beg knowing me as slow and incompitant.

I feel lost. A young girl without any means to survive.

My only comfort are memories that haunt and remind me,

That I might mean more to some if I weren’t alive.