Testo Beneath A Crescent Moon

Cry for god. Home at a dead end. In the creek past the fence you’d find him. Too young. To know. The hurt. The world holds. Childhood friends on the back road. Still I’m stunned by the news. Why is it I still think of you? Life’s come a long way since the cul-de-sac. To tragic tales on train tracks. For what it’s worth. It’s kept me up late. So many years past. And I never lost sleep. But now I question what was in your head. What had happened since we weren’t friends. Cry to God. Life lost. As I write you’re in my mind. Sitting down to analyze. The events and how they unfold. Your emotions and the stories untold. The hardest part for me alone. Is knowing that I’ll never know
Not meant to know