www.whyville.net Feb 9, 2014 Weekly Issue

Veteran Whyville Poet

Grieving Isn't Fun

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Grieving isn't fun
It means your eyes turn red
And your tear ducts hurt
And every time you blink it feels like daggers are wedging their way through the inner edges of your sockets
It means your cheeks feel all hard
As the salt dries and makes it that much easier
That much faster to wear a mask hiding your suffering
Grieving isn't fun
It means you keep repressing certain thoughts
Triggers that you know will set you off
Inch you further on the tip of the diving board then push you into the treacherous waters
It means your nose is stuck between being stuffy and running
Depending on if you're recovering
Or spiraling
Tissues make the skin under your nostrils raw
Painful, sore to the touch and just another sign that you're not really okay
Grieving isn't fun It means forcing yourself into social situations
During which you become your normal self
Then you shut off the lights, lock your door
And lay in bed for seven hours straight
And even Netflix can't get your mind off of it
It means running out of dry area on your sweatshirt to dab your eyes
Grieving isn't fun
You think that maybe writing a poem would help
You can release some of the thoughts and feelings
Maybe feel a little at ease
But as you scribble down the words that haunt your head you start to well up
You squeeze your eyes closed and continue writing as fast as you can
Not bothering to wipe the tears that cascade down your raw cheeks
Flowing freely and furiously from your tired eyes
You just wait until your heart stops racing
Your eyes run out of leakage
Your nose quits running its race
And you search for a thought or meaningless activity to distract you long enough to regroup
Only to slip back into the grief after a few short moments


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