They are the only ones who know the whole story. I am the only one they live for. Two metallic tags with edged in letters and eroded edges. Two that have lived through delivery to departure. Two who should be gone, but now are reminders of the past. From their braided stand they watch, but I look remembering of what used to be.

Their story is like a rollercoaster. They are comforts for the depressed. They observe their loved ones, riding the highs and lows of life. This is how their spirit lives on.

One will forget her reason of existence, she will be neck deep in a lake of her tears, desperately trying to stay afloat. Hope, hope, hope, hold on pain ends they say. They pray.

When I am too pained breath and too tired to keep swimming, when I am on the corner of Body Bag Boulevard and Anguish Avenue, then I look upon the two metallic tags. When the rollercoaster hits its low. Two who trucked through tragedy. Two who love and do not forget to love. Two whose only reason is to be there, there for me.