Winter's breath frigid with cruel,
tempestuous malice. That is what death is.
A cool, cavernous black hole
that sucks everything out and takes away.
An empty space where friendly faces used to float.
A gaping voiceless void where laughter once was.
It's the horror of loneliness,
the threat of abandonment,
The screams of disillusionment.
It is pain.
So you cry.
You mourn the hours you must face alone.
You hate the days to come of broken sobs.
I lie here in my stillness.
I'm fine.
It doesn't hurt, it's not cold.
The pain is gone and with it,
The biting cold of winters on the bridge.
The horror at man's selfish destructions.
The shame of being what they want you to be.
I need no longer hide my face.
I need no longer pray for grace.
I'm free.
In this windowless new home of mine,
I'm free.
So don't cry. You have to let go.
Don't cry.
I'm fine.
And you have to say goodbye.
It might be cold up there, but here
It's not.
So goodbye, and my love I beg you. Don't cry.
 
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