All the new thinking is about loss now.
A mothers eyes filled with tears in her room.
The freshly dug up soil and ruined grass.
The leaves that part from the tree in autumn.
Rain pours like the tears of God and heaven.
You always ask me, why did it happen?
It's life I say, but it's not. No one can
deal it out, like shuffling through the deck.
We are lost in absent minded tasks, breathe.
If ev'rything happens for a reason
then who gets to make the decisions here?
A numb mind and a thoughtless stare, a youth,
innocence stolen, ripped away too soon.
Despair hanging over like a rain cloud,
Death's shadow like smog in the air, poison.
It never really leaves, it lives on by
the tear soaked letters, creased photos hidden
under the pillows and mattress, secret.
Emptiness clings like a sweat soaked nightmare.
If it is not reality then why
does it hurt just as bad, tears prick your eyes.
All new thinking is about loss because
loss creates so much when it takes, aches, breaks
us all apart, will we ever be close?
space that builds, the hurt we feel, it creates
we need an outlet for our confusion,
anger, despair and all that may follow.
small words keep asking me, it hurts to hear
but worse to say, I don't know baby sis,
I guess it was just her time to go home.
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