The Mourn

We speak to ghosts,
Of loved ones gone,
From dusk until the dawn,
Whilst our hearts die,
With tears we cry,
Whilst suffering the mourn.

Our rattled bones,
Like bags of stones,
Ties lost from friendships sworn,
The hurt we feel,
That time can’t heal,
When suffering the mourn.

Cursed blackened skies,
Dark crows sole cries,
From death, they are reborn,
With what we’ve lost,
The pain, the cost,
From suffering the mourn.

Sunshine rays,
Bring happy days,
Though our souls remain so torn,
So many days,
Won’t go away,
The curse we call the mourn.