Clinging to their shirt as daylight passes by,

pleading not to go.

Their fingers' touch so light and gentle,

as time passes so utterly slow.

Tick, tock, tick, tock,

they push you away and turn on their heel.

Light as a feather, stiff as a board,

as you get on your knees and pray and kneel.

Desperately grabbing the hem of their shirt,

why must you leave? you cry.

And the person who once was a hero to you,

smiles sadly and says goodbye.

And the door clicks shut and the day fades to night,

as you wait there in the dark.

Holding yourself in a tiny ball, you think,

why must the kindest people leave the heaviest mark?