The way the words of my pain use to flow out of my pen's unto living paper ceased..
the exact Night they told me of your death;
and the so called pain was thrown away faster than anything ever felt..
i suppose i got the first real taste of Mis3ry.. even when i fell asleep...in dr3ams i cried and cried...
and even after a years, im not the same inside;
it was the death of a second mother, that cuts deeper than any purposely squeezed blade can ever gash..
it is the type of turmoil..a type of lifestyle that you wont ever understand.
unless victimized.
it is because we cannot honestly remind ourselves family dont last forever!
that is until you see the closure..of seeing them in a coffin looking so at ease;
where unfamiliar sunken cheeks, and pointy bones are more visible..
but behind all that hidden ugliness, the one thing you will never critisize or even doubt;
is their last expression of utter tranquility,not tinge of pain their heart will ever feel...
