Disheveled, unclean, your pain screams
Stature shot, tears unsought
Raw and fresh, open flesh
You grasp for belief engulfed by grief
Many judge, sympathies unbudged
So you try on a shroud, seek solace in crowd
Feign to smile, but no one’s beguiled
There’s a season for all and it’s yours to fall
Prostrate, unbent, fragmented lament
Others can pray while you endure decay
Divers healing transpires by grave
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