The next morning I woke up
and smelt the roses from the funeral pyre
still on my skin.
So sweet, it smelt, but unrelated
to the pain, and the feelings I felt
A few days before.
Solitude, I'm the only one not crying.
I feel empty,
My tears just won't flow.
How could it feel this way?
When I still have time to mourn?
Why can't I cry for you?
My pride.
It hurts, my pride, I can't show tears.
Papal, Come back to me,
I'm not ready to cry.
