The Grief Proceedings
I found a young girl lost
She found a demon
Not in me, but in what I was capable of
Capable of passion
Of love
Of the idea
Of possession
She found a man on the edge
His hand reached out
Not to help her
But to hang on
Chaos
That’s what she has found,
That’s what she will always wander towards
If not from this man, than someone else.
Someone laced with the same poison
She was bred upon this,
Her fathers and mothers,
They train in chaos,
They too walk on the edge.
Love should be freedom
We retreat from those we are most fond of
We should prevent them from the chains we carry
The Grief Proceeding will come soon, the times when we mourn
Not what came and went, but what never became at all