They call it a defect How can it be? You’re perfect A hole in the wall, doesn’t say it all There’s much more to it, in fact That murmur, that thrill Rendered me far less than thrilled But if there’s a void, then let’s not

You made it, mama! I’m so proud of you! It’s 4am, quiet and calm as you slip silently into the future. No fanfare No weeping and wailing Just you and I in peaceful silence punctuated by your last ‘Ah-Ah’ gently calling out before expiring. Was that your farewell

Trigger Warning: This post touches on themes of suicide and loss. Please stop reading if you're not comfortable with this topic. I can only imagine The pain your mother felt When she saw you Her beautiful baby girl With porcelain skin Now a young lady Whom she knew

Behind those scrubs Zipping from one room to the next From tragic to devastating My scrubs reminding me that Their sorrow is not supposed to be Mine. Speaking with one family to the next From devastated to desperate Their tears reminding me that My sorrow is nothing compared to Theirs.