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Where is my Sun

My mind has a tendency to flip without warning,
Mood changes like the lighting at dusk or in morning.
Wear these shades of black, what’s passed is done.
Oh darling, oh lover, where is my sun.

I fixed my eyes onto the dark horizon, watching the waves crash upon the beach.
I was afraid of the water, so I kept the deck close within my reach.
I wanted the light to break the surf; I wanted to see nothing but endless sea.
Seeing everything and nothing, it seemed like such a comforting thought to me.

A tear welled into my eye, a crack in the dam beneath,
I hadn’t shed a tear, not even when I placed the blackened wreath,
Upon the grave, upon the final resting place,
Knowing very well that what lay beneath was simply empty space.

The tear followed an invisible trail down the contours of my cheek,
Tours of invisible pain that I considered weak,
I hadn’t shed a tear, even when I placed the wreath,
Upon his tombstone, knowing he was not beneath.

I heard the waves crashing, boasting of what they stole,
Heard the waves demanding for yet another soul.
So I listened to the voices that were slowly forming in my head,
A wave crashing against my conscious saying that I was better floating with the dead.

I hadn’t shed a tear, for how could when I placed a wreath,
Upon a grave in which no occupant lay beneath.
I stared into the waters, foaming at the teeth,
Grinding and grinning for what they took deep beneath.

Something snapped inside my head and I walked down those stairs,
Deciding to take that path upon which not a sane man dares,
I ran for the shore and placed my heart in open air,
“Death you play a game in which the end is never fair.”

I was tired of the pain, tired of waiting for what’s in store,
Tired of waiting without a real reason to wait anymore.
I went down to pass out by the ocean, and let the water exfoliate my skin.
I let the waves carry my body to the deep and let the salt cleanse me of my sin.

The sun broke through the surf and drowned me in its light,
The ocean dragged me to the dark and I didn’t try to fight,
I looked up through glass that shimmered briefly my bright sun,
But now I’m too deep in darkness and what’s passed is done.

I placed a wreath upon the marker which didn’t mark his grave,
What lay beneath was not my son, but the marker that they gave,
To have a place to mourn him, cherish his loving name,
But it appears that now his father has a marker that marks just the same.

My mind has a tendency to flip without warning,
Mood changes like the lighting at dusk or in morning.
Wear these shades of black, what’s passed is done.
Oh darling, oh lover, where is my sun.





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