The absence of fear in the presence of pain. The burning cold rage as it's set to a flame. While some are dead, others are gone. The dark embraces the tears, the sadness of a song. The cry of horror as you feel the loss. The numbing cold burn for those you have lost. Either dead or gone, all have left. Despair so strong you learn to accept. The pain is welcome, the pleasure of fear. No more do you do you cry, though your eyes cloak in tears. Death is just the absence of mind, body, and soul. Just kidding, you lose all, you're thrown in a hole. Six foot under, or set to a flame. Burned to ashes or entombed in a grave. Limited choices when you finally die. What will he, she, and you all choose? What will I? Or to be left, seen scantily ever again. Close enough to death, it's the loss of a friend. Removed from your heart, removed from your life. "I'll keep in touch" my ass, it's a hopeless fight. Nobody stays, not ever don't they go. At some point or another friends cease to show. Loved ones slip away, they're water in an open hand. Sliding down the drain, no longer contained to your land. Dead and gone, practically the same. But putting the world in perspective puts most views to shame. Try to see the world as if it weren't your home. Please, just try, it's for you I write this poem. My flame is dying out, the cold is seeping in. The absence of pain brings the fear back again.
