In The MourningA Poem by BlysfulIt can't wait until morning."Don't fuss, don't stress! I'll be back in the morning. Goodnight, God bless, I'll be back in the morning. Be brave, be strong, I'll see you in the morning. You're where you belong and I'm here in the morning." Ignore the sick pallor. Ignore the mad shaking. Ignore the grim sight of their worn will breaking. There is nothing baleful, there's nothing frightening. They're exaggerating when they stated 'dying'. Besides! I'm back in the morning. So I smile as I leave the helpless behind. I smile to the Reapers, faces drawn and lined. No reason to worry, we have plenty of time! And God never punished where there wasn't a crime. So I'll come back in the morning. There's no need for the guilt clawing, crippling my spine. Left in sterile, cold white I am sure they'll be fine! The horror resulting from the hospital call is just unwarranted; it's a check up, that's all! So it can wait 'till the morning. There's nothing left the next morning. Or the next. Or the next. 'Til there's a grave, dug in the morning. "Don't cry, don't fret, I'll be here every morning. I'll not forget To visit in the morning. Stay strong, stay kind, I will see you each morning. I think you'll find that I miss you in mourning." © 2019 BlysfulAuthor's Note
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3 Reviews Added on April 10, 2016 Last Updated on December 28, 2019 |

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