I bow my head.
We sing in memory, songs that he loved.
I look around, everyone's in black.
It's like a big hole swallowing me,
And I can't get out.

I hear ladies sobbing, babies crying,
And faint screams in the distance,
Everything is blurred.

I smell fresh flowers and old women's perfume.
I feel the urge to scream, to scream as loud as I can.
To scream at the top of my lungs,
"Please don't be gone".
But I don't.
I keep it in, repeadtedly resciting it in my head.

I look around again,
Everything's gone.
It's just me, alone at his grave.
It always was, and it always will be.

They say that he talked to Angels,
And maybe I do too.