A tragedy is worse, if you can’t mourn,
Day in, day out, night comes through the back door.
You squirm in your bed, let a few tosses down the side,
A lonely house, a big bed, and a struggle to survive.


An unfulfilled mind, a poison’s chalice,
The voice inside your head is unkind.
You laugh it out when someone sees you,
Knowing you can’t afford being looked in the eye.


All these jumps, you had your quota,
Maybe it’s time to take it slow.
Be gentle, a little kinder,
Maybe take a walk again under the first snow.


You’ll be careful, rethink every move,
You know now wounds take longer to heal.
Else a quick blast to the forehead, a needle with little extra,
And there would be no pain lingering in your spine to test.


It won’t matter to you, but to everyone else,
And that’s something you can’t have on your soul.
What can you do, when you can only wait?
Cross your heart, wince and shudder,
And hope,
For the very best.