Death of a child

When I was a child, at school
I lost a perfumed eraser
green border on top
I cried for days.

Now I am losing my world
signing it off to destruction
life catapulted with weapons
graying the verdure
of being together
as friends, family, neighbors.

With painful words
adulterated actions
the infinite wide stage, not an eraser, is breaking apart wild
intelligently;
but I have learned to endure
now, I am an adult as far as I can see.
As a result, waters do not break
from the eyes, not a drop of tear
rolls down my cheek, and coagulate like a lake
or inundate like an overflowing river,
for long forlorn, the child
in me, went still and died.