I won’t blame God for this but I’d rip the sky apart To see your face and I’d join you anytime In death I won’t shout away my pain Walking in the stormy rain
How to deal with the past that haunts the present and will haunt the future? A death is like a ghost, in a way, the undecided thin line between love and hate, pain and bliss. Not knowing what will be. You pain screams from of this poem and hits us, the reader, where it hits best; in our present. Well done~!