Based on a real event that happened in my life









I wanted to say he died for us, like Jesus did on the cross. But it’s hard to compare my small ideas to him. But that’s what I wanted to think. I stuck with it, because I had one of those strong feelings. Deep down in the pit of my stomach, where you feel love and hate. And all that kind of stuff that no words on this planet could describe fully. That kind of feeling is like a gun going off, the explosion big, exciting and close to your heart. Real, real close like the bark hold’n on to a tree.

And I wonder if that was how Jesus felt, when he was hanging up there on the cross, talk’n to his father, and pray’n for his mother, so she knows everything will be alright. And now I don’t see just the surface, I see under it. I look in a mirror like a tear rolling down a cheek. I can feel beyond the reflection. I can see love behind a mirror. And ever since he died, I’ve been fowling my heart like a roadmap. Going straight, taking rights and sharp lefts. And he’s been on every stop. And I remember people making fun of him, calling him names, like he was their own personal, little punching bag. And I remember sitting with them listening, to all that they had to say. Not agreeing with anything, they said, that’s what they wanted to believe. So go head, your just believing a lie. But that’s all it was now, just a memory. And I hope that he died like Jesus did on the cross, for those people’s sake. And I bet after what they found out what happened to him, they probably regret every word they said. And for those people who needed nothing more than to feel; like me. And now I think that’s all I can do.

I remember the day I last saw him. His arm was around me, and it was the last day of school. And it was hot. So hot I couldn’t feel my heart burning with every thump. And he planted one on me, it was sweet and innocent and it was on my cheek inline with my upper lip the spot right under my nose. And if I try hard enough I can steel feel my blood boil like it did, that minute. And all it was, was a memory. And the picture of him walking away, and both of us not having the slightest idea, this would be the last time we see each other. And now I can see under the surface. I look in a mirror like a tear rolling down a cheek. I can feel beyond the reflection, and I can see love behind a mirror.