Katie's Sonnet
Katie, can you hear me? I need to speak
to the real girl. Not to the shell they grew
or built from fragments. They resorted to
seeing nothing. Instead, they fashioned a critique
of body and mind. "She fell in that week.
She didn't have to die, but she chose to."
But you knew the past and little deaths you
were hit by were too much, too much, too bleak.
But tell me, unhappy girl, what will we do
for the unhappy boy who fell for you?
Will we piece him together, no regard
for how he lives without you, the scarred
child of starvation. Your death made no waves,
just added to my long list of young graves.