-four AM grief

four-am-grief
People cry in public,
Intimidated by the fear of being seen as unmoved,
I prefer the shadows.

Like all things anchored to me,
You (oh grief) wait in darkness unseen,
And Let them think,
That I’m a heartless son,

‘Perhaps he’s stricken with no soul,
Perhaps he’s so far departed,
Unwhole.’

But I don’t mind that eyes stare,
Eyes unaware,
That this pain visits me alone,
And leaves not a morsel of me to spare.

Here I am four am darkness,
With pen in hand,
And blotched pages with the ink of my grief,
Perhaps like him,
Born alone,
Dying alone.

What do public displays of tears do but comfort the conformists,
I weep in solitude and heal in solitude,
And of my soul am the alchemist.

-W.E.

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