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Rated: ASR · Poetry · Death · #1698053
A poem I wrote upon the death of my grandmother.
Am I allowed to feel pain?
That once was, is now not;
That the sun still turns yet you do not,
That you've returned to the hollowed ground that once bequeathed you life
Is it alright to miss you?

Am I permitted to grieve
For the desire that burned so strong;
piercing my chest on a daily basis?
Winded by the sheer force of love that lingers still, though our day in the sun has since passed
Is it alright to miss you?

May I be so kind as to weep
For the long lost days of my youth?
For time spent despairing what was not, rather than what was;
For never stopping to bask in the light of the sun,
Lamenting over false imperfection instead with rose-tinted glasses that weren't so red
Is it alright to be me?

Well, is it?

No, of course not.

So I shall walk on into the sun, head held high 'til I'm blinded by light,
Until that grief and love and loathe is nought but fiery ember
And I will glow anew.
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