Millions said they loved you
They came to your shows
And your parties

But I worry of course
That in your last moments
You were lonely and afraid

Worse than alone,
Taking the hand of
Your betrayer on the way down

As if life was not short enough
We are surrounded by killers
Jokers and hitmen

The doctors, the lawyers, the cops
Where's the buck stop?
Trust no one but the singers

I see my empty hands and wish
That I had seen you perhaps one time
But it's too late to touch you.

You on the other hand
Will reach your millions from the grave
But I'm still afraid
Of how the end was for you.

I hope it was fast and easy
I hope you did not suffer.
We spend our lives running from relief.
I hope it was.

May you rest in peace
Singer prince.


cry

P.s. I wasn't apparently the first to write this, check out:

Is it too late to touch you, Dear?
We this moment knew -
Love Marine and Love terrene -
Love celestial too -

Emily Dickinson