Tragedy

 

Lost among the skeptics of this high society,

Where the snakes and the intimates look the same,

Unable to keep apart friend and foe,

In a leap of trust turning to only one face.

It drains my soul, burns ardour to ash,

Seeing the giver of my life, falling ever so apart.

In the ranks of devotion, the lord stands woefully,

Next to the true elixir of life, the vitalizer, the mother.

When this fragile vessel can hold the soul no more,

And the beings of this world must dissipate,

The one who cradled me in her faithful breast,

Her life untowardly becomes ever so delicate.

When the sound resonation of her heart,

Comes to an everlasting, melancholic end,

The final breath the only abstract closure,

In a life led incomplete, of an angel at heart.

A tap on my shoulder, an earnest face looking up,

Unbeknownst to the tragedy, asking for her mother

I remain null in the anguish, reflecting to myself

O lord, I cannot comprehend this crooked "fairness".

Plunged into the darkness of oblivion,

In this sudden emptiness of my heart,

These drops of emotions stay back no more,

Draining me of warmth, opening up to the cold.

But the hours, crying out soon become days, 

Allness turns still, days turning to weeks.

The grieving has ended, and the world has moved on.

Sympathy, forgotten, but loneliness still profound.

I must remain strong, not for myself,

But for the little girl who lost her mother,

I simply cannot stop.