Grief is strange.
Some days it hurts so much, colours all your hours. Other days, it's no where to be seen.
Death is not strange.
It's always there, ever permanent. The only thing that's truly permanent—thus entirely incomprehensible.
Some days it hurts so much, colours all your hours. Other days, it's no where to be seen.
Death is not strange.
It's always there, ever permanent. The only thing that's truly permanent—thus entirely incomprehensible.
What is the point about being sad about death, though?
The sadness comes in waves..your heart squeezes inside your ribcage. You hug yourself and cry out of frustration—frustration because there's no end to this grief. No matter how much you cry they won't come back.
The sadness comes in waves..your heart squeezes inside your ribcage. You hug yourself and cry out of frustration—frustration because there's no end to this grief. No matter how much you cry they won't come back.
Even if you forget them, it'll make them no difference.
So unto what end goes this means?
Nothing.
Nothingness.
Afterall that is death.
Your someone special, bones and flesh, reduced to nothing, tears and wispy memories.
So unto what end goes this means?
Nothing.
Nothingness.
Afterall that is death.
Your someone special, bones and flesh, reduced to nothing, tears and wispy memories.
If you scream into the void enough will those who are now the void hear you?
Asking for a friend/mother.
Asking for a friend/mother.
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