From my talented brother, the poet.
In the halls of her mind a spirit haunts,
how hard it is to deal,
looming in her subconscious it taunts,
this misery can’t be real,
she knows she’ll never love again,
for calling her from heaven above,
is the one who made her feel so loved.
The ghost of happiness dwells in her face,
in his past life she moved with such grace,
a hint of doom then? not a trace or clue,
but now doom did replace all that she once knew.
In the hall a spirit haunts,
how hard it is to conceal,
no one knows the real emotions she feels,
enter Death, her heart he now steals,
yet she lives on.
“Why” she cries, “why, take a look in my tearful eye and answer me, am I alive or praying to die?”
No reply from the man in black,
and so she lives on to another…
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