Matt Corbinn died in a car accident when he was 17.
He had a funeral service and everyone was there,
Wearing black and weeping.
A preacher lied about what he was like,
Said that he missed out, missed his chance,
And that he would be missed.
His parents, who didn't know him,
Stepped up, sobbing heavily,
And told stories about things he said when he was 4.
Everyone wanted to seem sadder,
More stricken with grief and with sorrow,
So they began to cry out louder,
Each wrinkle and dimple became a channel running with tears,
And every mouth moaned.
Another preacher spoke,
Spoke about God's will and justice,
And he said that Matt was a victim nonetheless.
Everyone was reminded of how sad they were,
And they began to mourn their own loss.
His friends thought about what they would never
Be able to do now,
And everyone wore the faces and clothes appropriate to their sorrow.
The floor was stained with mascara-laden saltdrops,
But the greatest homage was paid in a single tear
That ran down the cheek of a girl
Who left halfway through,
Stepped out of the church
And walked home in the rain.