No Denouement
At my funeral there is confusion. A body that was my own, eyes staring hopeful and young. Nothing to burn and burst in a crescendo of heat, and bring to ash, No denouement I find it hard to carry her. The fullness of sorrow and insidious sick in my weak bones, The grief of a young life and oh, I want to be her again-- I want to be her again! Wrapped in the cloak of falsity, These things happen to other people But never to me.