The Five Stages of Grief.
I didn’t notice that,
I didn’t see that,
I didn’t feel that,
It never happened,
I never saw my soul get ripped apart.
Why wasn’t it you,
What I have done wrong,
Why am I always the target,
Why didn’t it happen to someone else.
IF i give you my hand will my eyes open,
If I give you my dream will I still see the world,
If I give you everything, will you go away,
Am willing, very willing to give it all,
To end the tales of my bad decisions.
This ghost won’t depart from me,
The badgering demon of my past,
Soliloquizing the tales of my ending,
No more where to hide,
Than in this unholy sacrament of my mystery.
What has happened?
Where have I been?
Who is this new person?
Giving in to these new views,
Seeing through a fixed lens.
By: Eίkosi éxi.
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