Grieve

GRIEVE
The brightness of the sun does not warm me.
The smell of apple pie does not soothe me.
To just be, is taking all of me.
There is no hope of reprieve.
When one so young waits for death, everyone must grieve

Time strips me of hope.
There is an urge finish at the end of a rope.
I don’t know if I can cope.
Hope, rope, cope let it end.

Tied by a chain
Locked in pain
Life is a stain
There is no hope of reprieve
When so one so young waits for death, everyone must grieve