Ever slow,
grief is a challenge,
that takes its hold upon the soul,
for it eats at you,
and it imbibes you with a deathly glow,
and though you are not dead,
though you are not dead,
morbidity is in your head,
and the darkness lingers,
it lingers like nothing else,
like nothing else that you know,
and with every tear,
a memory in your vision is sown,
and whether happy or sad,
it cuts like a million knives,
as your loved one’s corpse begins to rot,
rot in the ground below.
