Griev­ing is a process
It’s called that for a rea­son
For when it comes to vis­it
There isn’t a set sea­son

With­out a bit of warn­ing
It sneaks up from behind
Reek­ing pain and may­hem
With tears that leave you blind

Just as quick it lopes away
In preda­to­ry glee
Know­ing its has done it’s job
To make a mess of me.


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