(Untitled...)

The death of a friend
Brings the best and the worst
Out of those who were close
Or claim to have been
Sometimes it’s hard to discern
What is best
And what is worst
So we remember
And we rewrite
We create a circle
And say “This is how it was”
And silently dare anyone to be callous enough
To question our version of the pre-Event events

Then time goes by
And our rewritten story
Becomes The Story
Delusion or not
It is now reality
We breathe a sigh of relief
We’ve fooled them
We’ve fooled ourselves
We now have interpretive powers
Perched upon the pedestal of compassion
We busy ourselves with the “affairs of the living”
Happy the true story is lost
And in it’s place, ours