Dying young.

The hardest part of living is dying young, when time slips away,  and the bells are rung.

When the coffin is carried by the strongest of men, and tears turn to goodbyes, and see you whens 

The heavens angels all standing at the mound of dirt, 

Tears shall never dry up,  the heart will always hurt, 

The passage of light, read on the hardest of days,
Remembering the importance of love and its ways, 

Coffin lowered,  covered again,  not just with soil but so much pain,

Tears in reminance,  a smile that you've known, placing of flowers,  each as their own,

In the tomb or the high grounds,  the lowly burried and done 

Reading the verses,  
When it's all over and  your left alone
With the sun beaming on the new stone.