It will get easier with time—
Pity’s refrain is the worst sounding choir.
Thank you, I hope so. I’ll be fine,
I’ve learned to be a mourner is to be a liar.
My heartache is muted by memories
As memories move closer than breath.
Trust me, I’ve tried all the home remedies;
None heal the flaming pain of death.
How do I say my grief is a voucher
That proves my grandfather was alive?
How do I say my lament roars louder
Knowing time together I cannot revive?
But it won’t get easier as present turns past.
So, stop the sympathy—I want this pain to last.
