ipr.

when one life ends, and another takes over, what is to be made of those left
behind? sullenly trekking forward in an abyss of pain.

what is to be made of those whose every breath is laboured, as their hearts are
tearing at the injustice of their plight. the living are too often deemed lucky, while
the dead’s fortune is regarded with pity. but, what is to be made of those left
behind, whose aches lead to deafening cries and silent torture?

to have loved and lossed, and regained with another. what of that?

in memory, 11.08.05. forever loved, never forgotten.

xO, gh.