You do not get to mourn
by the forgotten grievances
or the bruises you left;
and the storied challenges
dusted by psychological amnesia,
and gas lit stoves to brighten the dark,
what you’ve caused
Is but the abuse embedded in yourself
reflected onto others
You do not get to mourn
Snakes do not shed tears,
but crocodiles do by the watershed,
sleek from their backs,
And taken a vein, ripped from their spines,
Their cold blooded nature
you celebrate with laughter
as words heavy about pain,
The antagonizing way you did before he died,
And how dare you mourn
my best friend as you abused him
the same way you did I,
the way you put his name in your mouth
to swallow the benefits of sympathy turned money,
Is but the shallow grave you left him in;
If one day “sorry” entered your vocabulary
rested on the crests of letters with no foothold,
It wouldn’t withstand the weight
of unknowing you for so long of a barren 22 years,
to have little to work with in the empty halls
And to fabricate nothing from the semblance of shadow;
And pity be the embarrassment you’ll find
When you mourn him.