poem: friends

the earth was spinning
down into sunset
and I put on—welcome to the black

parade. you said
you knew it maybe, you
hummed to the chorus, to the

rise and fall of one thousand
suicides, one thousand children
deciding—not tonight.

we are the same people, we are split
into different bodies. I could tell
you the dark things

but I don’t think
I need to. you have the haunted
look in your eyes, you are proof

that tragedy is not always
good. we are too young to be artists—
we are fading like small

fires into the night, the people we
were and are—
they are congregating, saying wait

one more night: you managed hell
with colored pencils, with internet
blogs. you deserve

to be teenagers,
riding in fast cars going—somewhere,
the purpose dim

but very certain.

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