Grief
By

    Image by Emma Sarappo

    The sky is gray dull. No light to be found; it's buried deep underneath the clouds. Or, perhaps, the clouds really hide that there never was any light to look forward to; it long ago left my life.

    Darkness is supreme.

    The gray clouds and the rain remind me so much of my own sorrow – the sorrow I so desperately try to contain until I'm alone in the safety of my bedroom. It is there I can release it with no prying eyes around, no chastisement, no mockery or pity. I would be lying if I said I felt happy. One could compare me to the stormy clouds: fierce, powerful. The emotions I keep within are strong, raging; many run the other way in terror from that which I, and even themselves, feel. I am not so pleasant when I'm caught in emotional turbulence. Calm reason falls upon deaf ears; like a hurricane, my mind is that of chaos and madness. I fear I may destroy or maim whomever gets too close.

    A pouring relentless shower reminds me of my own tears over – the woman who left me and who I mourned for several years. The friends who came and went the man that claimed to love me, but then abandoned me. Such is my grief. The sorrow is so great I fear one day I may go under.

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