I might as well sit still and hum a flat note,
Or scream at the wall until my throat croaks to concrete,
For associating any word with a tear would defeat the hurt,
And eliminate the act of genuinely crying into an act of talking too much,

Of trying too hard, like those matching scratches I once made,
At a younger age; blade barely skin deep like itches on my wrists.
Exactly like the times I would eye out the highest building I could find,
Imagine climbing and jumping…
But those were just cries for help, avoiding all the risks.

I try picture what your brain was fixed on before it found the coaches and the tracks,
Seconds before the train shows, your round face slowly scrunches, then forever relaxes.
It’s not my place to rate the anticipation as brave or empty-desperate,
But in the end of it, it doesn’t matter, you weren’t playing any games.

Is it safe to say you wouldn’t cause a scene designed to hurt your enemies?
I doubt you felt the need to force reasons out, all about your friends and family?
Because there was no note, no begs for open hands,
All smiles in all photos, all the jokes in the world you know, you had a plan.

Poor Amy
You just had to go

And we’ll never get it, if we had bettered the paths we took,
Then maybe instead you could have hesitated, just maybe you would have looked
At both pathway’s you could’ve picked, or at least let us figure it out for you.
Or maybe it was bigger than that, or you didn’t care,
But we’ll never forget what we could’ve said or regret the things we did.

But as far as memory goes (and in essence memory goes forever),
We will treasure your sweetness, your kindness, your smile that was in our presence,
Now leaving us speechless.

We may never meet the torture your mind did, questioning and battling its own existence,
But Amy, you taught me a lesson on friendship, and even in it’s briefness,
It was infinite,

And knowing you was such a pleasure,
A pleasure I hope you now know,
Poor Amy
I don’t blame you
I guess you just had to go