I wrote a poem when he died,
a poem so filled with sadness.
I will write more poems as time goes on,
sometimes filled with madness.
I look back on them, and they make me sad,
because I remember all of the pain.
I never thought, when I wrote those lines,
that I could go on with my life again.
It has been less then a few hours now
since you passed;
though things aren't great, I'm still here.
I cry all the time,my eyes fill with tears,
I miss you and wish you were here.
I tell myself, for the sake of all,
that it is time that I let go.
But unless they've been there,
please tell me, how would they ever know?
A friend of mine, who knows how I feel,
because he too lost someone he knew.
he says that grief is all my own,
and it's my right to feel so blue.
So, my darling love, who sits above,
please wait for me I plea.
I have no idea when I'll be there,
because unfortunately it's not up to me.
