Death of Youth

This is a poem I wrote when my 25 year old cousin died of leukemia. I was 16. It is arguably the best piece I have ever written. Probably because it was true.

Death of Youth

The wavering flame of hope, too, dies
As they find out that his time has come.
Disbelieving, helpless, weary eyes
Search for unfound consolation.

Prayers now seem so futile
For the decision has been made.
They contrive a bitter, cynical smile
A suffering soul has to rest been laid.

Aching for a final glimpse
Their breaths steam the windowpanes.
Trying to breathe life into him
They sigh but, Alas! all in vain.

Time stops as the grief seeps in
Wrinkled faces absorb another woe.
They seek solace from within
Their inner anguish does not show.

For fear of causing much more pain
Sorrow is suffered silently.
They swallow, bear and constrain
And shed their tears privately.

They curse the savagery of His choice
His methods of selection do confound.
But a distant echo, comes his voice
A sweet, yet sad, melodic sound.

Fear not for me, he happily cries
For I am safe and unharmed.
Upon me now an angel smiles
And walks with me arm in arm.

And as his singing fades away,
Shards of memories prick their eyes.
For his joyous spirit lasted to this day,
And as he said his last goodbyes.