• I saw grief clearly
    She was small, thin and had a milk-white complexion.
    She donned a frail black veil,
    And a black tattered robe that hung loosely around her pitiful body
    The black and purple clouds in her mind bubbled and swirled behind her eyes.
    The moon in the distance,
    Bathing her body in cool waves of light.

    Her eyes were brimming with unshed tears,
    then like blood from an open wound,
    They fell.
    Her eyes were like an open book,
    That showed the world her bleeding, dieing soul.
    Behind the streaming tears,
    Her black lifeless eyes showed something else,
    Pain.

    She sobbed and cried out,
    As thought the mere memory of her loss caused her terrible heartache.
    She was crouched to the burned,
    And lifeless ground.
    With her bone thin fingers she clung to a dead and withering rose.
    Whose petals were falling,
    Falling to the dirt.
    Burning and shriveling up,
    Like her will to live.

    The dark and storming clouds behind her eyes offered her no compassion.
    The rain started to fall like her tears,
    Seemingly never-ending.
    As the tears fell Grief gave into the pain.
    And the anguish of her tormented soul.

    Then just like the petals of her heart,
    She fell upon the ashes,
    And let herself become one with the rose.
    Melting into nothing,
    But ash and dust.