I still remember the day I held that book bound red,
my affectionate grandfather was on his deathbed,
and that was the first day that I really ever prayed,
before a chilly winter sunset in my sixth grade.
Maybe there’s no God, or he doubted in my belief,
for my whole family soon drenched in tears of grief.
That night, I dreamed when I’ve finally fallen asleep,
that he said “Hey Kid! There is no need to weep.”
And then I moved out of home for higher studies,
started it by ending up with all grade ‘D’s.
I still remember that one weird anatomy class,
when a fresh body was brought in fluid and glass.
I thought I heard her sigh in despair, not fair,
for we avoided eye contact by staring at thin air.
I thought she had wept and walked out of the lab,
I can't remember if she walked back or took a cab?
And then I moved to the countryside scenic,
started my days at the Emergency of a clinic.
One fine day when the dreaded sirens were heard,
I ran into the driveway, why is my memory blurred?
He was wailing in pain as he fell from the electric line,
his screams were sending chills down my spine.
The newspaper said he died on the spot....
Before he reached the hospital... wait, what?
I had worked hard for twenty three years,
shedding all my blood, sweat and tears,
Dreaming of becoming a specialist in cancer,
How and when did I become a necromancer?