Grief is a tidal wave of depression,
Of loss and mourning. It is the
Dead's life story painted on the
Insides of your eyelids, visible
Even through the piercing darkness
Of a night grave, visits to the
Fields of the lost and illness
That seemed to lack the ilk
To fit in, for they have misplaced
The light of the living.
Grief is a burning substance,
An addictive scent that's hard to
Let go of. But I suppose you'll
Join them in Heaven, if you
Believe that sort of thing.
But most of all, it's saying
Goodbye, so long, farewell,
Adieu, even though I hate to leave.
It's grief-stricken faces in the graveyard.