Ripped Poem by Matthew Boisjolie

Life is sooo short, even when you think you accomplished something, you end falling and being buried 6 feet under, it's always the strong that die first, and the weak, who are left to cope, to survive, to move on, why must we feel this pain, these emotions, when someone falls? When someone leaves, when someone dies? why must things work this way? Is it what makes us stronger, to be strong and fall? or Does it make us weaker to survive, yet feel the struggle of life? RIP Robert (BOB) Im going to miss you: (