A Tale of Three Augusts

I can't forget;
I never will.

Memories won't fade;

Scars don't heal.

A cycle of seasons,

Another year,

Eventually wind down

Into the month of August.

A summertime conclusion,

A path divided,

Furious goodbyes,

A girl left blindsided,

Endless questions,

Relentless tears:

And there concludes

The first August.

A sudden realization,

More tears shed,

A new voice emerges,

And better understanding of "dead."

A long journey awaits.

As September nears,

She realizes it's the end

Of the second August.

Another lip piercing,

The same blue sky.

The crippled bird

Has remembered how to fly.

Pain still lingers,

But hope grows strong,

As the curtain closes

On the third August.

(And now for something completely different. Since I feel like this ought to be put on this blog somewhere, but doesn't require it's own post, I'm adding it along the bottom here. It's about misconceptions about the emo subculture. Only click the link if you're willing to wade through horrendous spelling and grammar- the worst being at the top of page two.)