I woke anew this morning
To a blue, indifferent sky;
I cursed the callousness that let
Such cheerful clouds drift by.
The sun yet spun above me
On an axis fixed and fast;
Hours slipped as always
From the present to the past.
Yesterday changed nothing,
And tomorrow will not, too;
Though life should still its paces
Now it walks no more in you.
Many graves I visit,
And many friends I’ve lost;
Why should one more death
Come with such a cost?
I don’t know how to mourn you,
but not from wrath or pride;
I somehow never dreamed of
A world in which you died.
What a terrible fucking poem, it sounds as if it were written by a sixteen-year-old – no grace, no elegance, no – *the page devolves into angry scribbles*
