To Paul.

Funeral Blues (W.H.Auden)
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

Paul, i know a have to go on w/my life and overcome ur loos, and i will, promise, but allow me to mourning u, i will for a while `cuz missing u is soooo big for me.
A kind person from Sweden send me this poem, omg, is how i feel inside me.
I want the universe mourning u.
Thanks Anders, w/persons like u, is kinda easier to go on.
This poem is dedicated too, to any kid that has lost they`re lives due to abuse.
hugsss, for u all kids,
be safe,
robert
Posted by robert