To everyone else you were just a boy who died. Your face was in the papers for a few weeks, your name engraved on a rock, your life in the publics heart for a while.
But this is what they didn't tell them:
Your favourite colour was the blue of a robin's egg.
When you smiled the whole room laughed with you.
When you hurt, we felt it too.
That you cared.
That you were strong.
That I never knew anyone as good as you.
That you were loved.
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