They warn
"The Devil's spawn is what you are after."
Then why do I see
halos draped over you,
like a regal cape
your sturdy shoulders, your neck claims;
just like how once
my sinful hands did.

Your tears strike
the frozen sleet below.
I shuffle to pick them up
because diamonds
are irrefutably too precious
to be wasted away
on such an ungrateful surface.

I am no longer here
or at least
it feels like it.

Sitting here
in the land of the dead
is too overwhelming.

Spiraling
down, down, down
but I'm still intact.
How? Why?

I'm immobile
like the intricate patchwork
below me
dead;
just like the cruel substance
that I'm made of.

All the gravestones are scoffing,
mocking the only emotion
that i am capable of;
GRIEF.

Mourn I must;
that the woman
who gave birth to my father
the only anchor I had
that still remained
is dead.

The gravestones chant,
in a language that I can understand,
"All must die.
Mourn no longer
than necessary.
Forget the dead.
PITY THE LIVING."

They are right.
But I will mourn
my deceased anchor
for a while longer;
otherwise, numbness
will take over my horizons
and there is no going back
from there.

So I bury the dead
but before I leave,
I do not forget
to dig my own grave,
for the time is inevitable
before Grief hands me over
to the unforgiving hands of Numbness
and I join those gravestones.

Under the serene starry sky
lay a  hushed beating heart
In a field as far as the horizon offered
always allured by God's majestic art

Two glistening eyes on Draco fixated
Orion seemed the epitome of delight
Deciphering the secrets the cosmos held
in awe of the gloom broken by celestial light

Almost as if the stars were reaching out too
cradling the little one in their truths
unraveling their mysteries to the heart of the wild
in their lullaby, ease and soothe

The galaxies above used their magic to fill
the obscure heart with emotions aplenty
and all that chained it to the insipid earth
were mundane realities and gravity

The sweetness of this poison
offers its condolences.
What it doesn't known is
its strength is
what I ached
to acquire,
not its pity.

Thunderstorms and grim sky
Trickling water, witch's high
Patch  my heart up, like a lullaby.