03
Apr
2007
Ludicrously Tragic
The sun bathed the top of the tent, protecting the people underneath.
Red roses, red eyes, red noses. A sea of black and pastel. All here to pay respect.
Flowing from the hearse like water from an open floodgate. One, two, twenty.
Rhythmic squeaking alongside a long pine box. A box no one would be popping from.
Such a happy life. No one knew monkeys were so mean, least of all Mr. Jingles.
