Who once walked with eyes to the sky,
now came home, held shoulder high.
eyes, once bright, perhaps,
now are closed and clasped.
death had borne this girl away
into the night of the dying day.
I watch as people file,
in a single line with plastic smiles.
looking ghastly in forced grief,
They steal else's sorrow like lowly thieves.
And it is done with just intent,
to help grieving eyes, till they relent,
with torrents of tears & trembling drops
washing over the pale and pallid corpse.
what dreams those closed eyes held,who's to know?
What secrets lie buried behind her brow?
people who barely knew her for hours,
cry their tears over funeral flowers.
"I'll miss her" between tears they claim,
of a girl who in death has become more than a name.
my thoughts unvoiced doesn't care
for their need to share,
the grief that only the truly loved can feel.
tears, in vain, they try to steal.
please leave them alone,
in memory of what death had borne.
tear away your mask of pretense,
your grief, its artifice is its offence.
Poem By Bala.
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