Such things need to left
For the dead of night
The haunting hour
When old ghosts appear,
The nightmares of remembrance
We dare not broach by daylight
Yes, here,
I stroll down a memory lane
Into the belly of the beast,
The hole in the ground
The hum of traffic,
Inching its way to New York.
She telling me finally
Of the girl she mentored,
Who took her own life,
Death being less tragic
Than what might have been,
Tears welling up in her eyes
As she remembers,
The news reaching her,
Standing beside me
As if it happened yesterday
Rather than yesteryear
The pain of it
Stalking her always,
Now and forever.
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