Piece 2: They
The Dirty Park Bench Epitaph Anthology
We laughed when she cried.
We wouldn't leave her alone.
Humorous, humorous her misery was
The games we played
Us, her demons, she count not slay.
Put her in her grave, yes we did.
No regrets, our agenda met.
Did we haunt her?
Did we suffocate her,
Smothering out any piece of joy she felt?
Well of course, why not?
No one was in our way.
Amy, our sweet, sweet Amy,
We will remember the time we spent torturing you
Ever so fondly.
As for what you may remember
We know not,
But we hope,
But we pray,
That you may remember us as They.
About the Creator
Bryttnie Chaffin
Writing things that are fun and/or have powerful emotion behind it, maybe some educational things. Writing about my personal feelings, those of others (real or fictional), or just fun things that my mind makes up. Thanks for reading.
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