Y Wednesday, October 17, 2007
11:42 pm
17/10/07.We will remember.
I kinda stoned here for 5 minutes. No idea how to continue this. KISS then.
On this day, at approximately 1.30am, Wrixon left us. He put up a good fight, one that would give even miracle workers a run for their money. Sometimes things don't go exactly as they are supposed to, or as they are wanted. His condition worsened, and Wrixon was essentially brain dead.
It was his parents who bore him, and so shall it be that his parents would end his life. Life support was withdrawn, and he went peacefully, with no worries. The Principal promised him that the school would continue to give their best. This year's results would be dedicated to you, Wrixon.
I have never written a poem, nor would I attempt one now. I don't even know what prose, good or bad is. What follows are just my thoughts, something I want written somewhere, anywhere.
Almost two years ago
I first set my eyes on you
Instantaneously, I recognised you
Just another snobbish band member, I thought
Our eyes met
Locked
Drifted away
But you
You proved to be so much more
As the irreversible sands of time toil on
Another facet of you I began to see
A light hearted character, infectious smile
And every now and then
You'd raise your hand
Swipe your fringe to the side
And narrowly escape the master's scissors
All the while giving that act cute look
Indeed. That unforgettable act cute look.
When stupid arguments arise
Between Joel and I
God or no God
You'd be among the first to appear
Among the first to laugh
Among the first to break us up
Before cracking up yet again.
Talking about again
Who could forget your playstyle
Always the Queen of Pain
Saving the wave
For the ks, without fail
Again and again.
Now that you're gone
This world of ours
Just seems that much colder
That much darker.
But we will toil on
Live your dreams in us
For you will not be forgotten.
Rest in Peace Wrixon. Gentleman. Sportsman. Professional.
Victorian.
17/10/07
We will remember.