Gritted teeth against the feather pillow,

All useless trinkets, the past to touch.

Beloved friends, just souls to crunch,

Weakened back, with age to hunch.

Every rainy day is to take someone’s life away,

Yet there was the sun, on a graveyard that day.

There was also sun, on the ninth day after,

Even though, not a second for an ever-after.

I ask silent rain to rinse the pain,

I pray for silent rain to ease the vain.

As I’m ready to have a dream of a thousand cats over a rainbow,

As I’m ready to cover myself with mallow,

You all don’t let me go - trying to return me to the shore.

It has ripped me wide open, brought up the lungs and the ribs.

At the very same moment, the last breath went away from her lips.

Nerves are stretched, I’m going mad.

There’s no magic to bring you back from the dead.

I crawl from my sorrow,

Then I push myself back.

Next day there’s a whole new crack,

A new set of trinkets of grief to stack.

I’d love to tie myself to your cross,

To be near you, never feel this loss.

No threads could ever weave me back,

Help me from there to stay on track,

You see, there is no glue for my broken heart,

But for you I will turn my void pain into art.

All these songs to praise Death are of no use.

He has no mercy and I cannot find any excuse,

Not even enough words to justify this abuse.

I say hello to you again, dark grim thief,

You shall have also stolen my aching grief.

My long forgotten yet so present darling friend,

Wilt thou liberate us from a torment to ascend,

Be blessed, thy shallow scythe remain absent.

Thine eyes of all-seeing, her demise of the being.

The smell of incense imprinted in my head,

The unified perfume given to all the dead.

I pray she has sailed into the better lands,

Pray that I won’t be cutting my own hands.

Limbo. I’m in the Limbo.

Navigating through the loss,

I have many miles yet to cross.

I’ve found the way to hurt Death,

I’ve shown him my biggest wealth.

In the beginning I tried to murder him endlessly

While he was witnessing my failure jealously.

Then I started to laugh, love, and live.

All of a sudden the Grim Reaper felt grief.

I say goodbye to you, my dearest friend.

On a ground marked with borderlines.

I will meet you again two more times:

At my mother’s and my very own end.

Even though I’m grieving, I do my best to find the meaning - maybe this loss will help me to reveal it.

In all of existential despair,

I’m looking for a ship to sail.

The Limbo silences my wail,

The realm of the dead isn’t fair.

I wish I could sail to forbidden shores,

Where your sweet voice still echoes.

I wish I could break past the gates of heaven

To demand a lunch with God at around eleven.

He left me in continuous pursuit of consolations

With no map to make a route to all the destinations.

Of course I’m mourning more about myself than you.

I crave to relive the memories again, at least just a few.

I’ve completely lost track of cast incantations,

Magic is as useless as my countless declarations.

Misery comes at the dawn in many incarnations,

Leaving me one-on-one with my cruel hesitations.

When last bits of light are gone, the only phenomenon present is remorse.

It doesn’t matter how courageously I command the ship - I cannot change the course.

Even though I’m grieving, I know that you’re still living - please help me to find the meaning, may your soul guide me to reveal it…

Your place now is somewhere there, over the rainbow, above the skies.

Each time I come to visit, each time I try to reach you, no one ever replies.

Under the weight of a given circumstance all the angels shall cry.

I wish I could sing to you “Happy Birthday” one last time.

I wish these simple things wouldn’t feel so out of reach and so divine.

Every step I take is made over broken glass,

I hope you’re now resting well in the soft clouds.

Now it makes me seek redemption,

I should’ve given you more attention.

I hope Aurora has let you into her embrace,

I wish you were doing well and that I didn’t stargaze.

I indulge in reverie because there I can tell you that I’ve loved and still love you - very, very.

And ache was it all that was left in me after you.

And the downfall was the only form of pardon.

And ache, and kick in the stomach, and need

Were everything I deserved for every bad deed.

And healing is wretched aimless reeling,

And ache is the only coin I can toss to the witch,

And there’s no place on my flesh to put a new stitch.

Tell me, do you know which witch I shall go to?

Whisper to me, do you have a clue which altar I shall lie onto?

Liturgies, masses, litanies, chronicles, all the canons and canonicals!

In a given space, I’m turning to the Necronomicon to dismantle the established pantheon!

I demand that there be no more gods,

I demand that dying people be given some odds!

And ache was it all - all I ever wanted to return

To those forces who made me mutely mourn.

Obliterate, elaborate, condemn with all the useless words,

Elevate, try to escape, convict me of all these senseless crimes,

Run away now, while you can, before the looking glass has eaten me fully,

Pretend this never happened - what an act of sheer folly,

Crucify me as Jesus for all the sins of mine and his,

Make me so holy, the devil that never will be pleased,

Silence me, cover, make the world deaf and blind, hopefully then I won’t have to pretend to be kind.

Let me burn all the children, let me kill all the dogs!

Let me be mad, crazy, insane, rapt by the rage,

Out of the box, out of this ugly, rusty, imperfect cage.

Everybody down! Everybody bow! Bend your crooked knees! Accept all the anger - there will never be peace!

Only tears of Magdalena run as rivers through the countless hills, only the hiss of wind through empty cities - tell me how it feels?

Only the painful remains in the world, go back home, barricade your mind behind the many pills,

Not a single standard or ideal shall be lowered,

Let’s strangle all the unfaithful and dishonored!

The suffering, the pain, the never-lost grief,

Bring retribution, take more than you give,

The pain, the suffering, my beloved grief,

Be my lovely guest, be my lovely thief!

No more meaning left there to weave,

But I chant this to you, oh, my lovely grief!

What else have you prepared for me?

Clearly, you will not just let me be.

Doctrines are to enslave, not to free.

Go ahead, what else have you got up your sleeve?

How many aces will you play till I lose my belief?

Your royal flush is on the table - she cannot breathe.

I want to see the robes and gowns that you will stitch from her worn-out skin.

I want to eliminate all the evilness and cruelty in the world from within.

The bet has been increased,

And you still are not pleased.

Spill it all out on me - I can take it, you don’t scare me.

After all, there is nothing more horrifying than to be.

What else?! More, more, more!

Give me more, I will take it all!

Why are you staring at me? Have you got nothing else?

I remain focused and do my best not to lose her essence.

You wonder - how dare I participate in your vote?

Speak out, cuss me, pour it down my ragged throat.

What else? What’s next? Be my welcome guest, feel free!

You are nothing I acknowledge, who are you to judge me?

Yes, do it, please - whip my already contorted spine,

Yet I know - no feather is lighter than the heart of mine!

Welcome to the harvest season!

There’s plenty of room for a treason!

Raise up your life-taking scythe!

Erase her, as if she was just a myth.

Raise up your ghost-making scythe!

Destroy her as if her life was not a gift.

Scorch my flesh to the bones,

I’m no rose - there’ll be no thorns.

Contort me all the way to the ground,

So I could only make a moaning sound.

Take away my love and laughter, steal my joy,

Crumble me till there’s nothing left to destroy!

Outlaw my cussing, my screaming, my speaking,

You won’t ever restrain me from rhyming and thinking.

There are some things you will never reap,

Despite harvest season, I won’t loosen my grip.

Try to annihilate, try to devour,

I’ll never submit to your power!

In the realm of living,

There is a place for grieving.

In the realm of living,

There is a place for feeling.

In the realm of living,

We all are still breathing!

Let there be Death no more,

Let there be life on the shore,

Let the blood leave no stains,

Let there be no new saints!

Obey my command, as I speak you shall comply!

In these lines, there is no space for you to reply!

Why did you let her die, why did you let her die?!

You may call me “your eminence” as now I’m your only evidence.

Evidence of your pathetic existence! Death, Grim Reaper, Devil, God, oh please - just a bunch of wicked thieves!

Take away all the witchcraft,

I’ll just start over, from a draft.

There are still some bits and shards of power left,

There is still some place for the new sentiment.

I’ll create it not as a fragment but as a testament,

That I, the living creature, am your biggest dissident!

How poetic and metaphoric

That the winter is coming.

Roses, tulips and all other types of flowers,

Peacefully resigning, losing their powers.

All wonderful gardens are overgrown,

I’m weltering in the middle of the road,

Stumbling over dead bodies which float.

They cut out my eyes and left me looking for the scraps of inspiration,

Second-guessing the reasons and meaning behind the insinuation.

How and when did the beautiful fountains turn into a swamp?

Why was I thrown away, turned into a black swan’s son?

Where and to whom shall I be wide-spreading this sad song?

Many things have gone out of my view,

All the consolations I’ve been deafened to,

No higher gods or creatures left to pray to.

Was I made or born wicked? Might it be that I’m wicked for good?

You’re no longer here to protect me as you told me you always would.

Can you see me? Can you hear me, renegade gods of slaughter?

Evil and foul, hell would be cold for you - I’ll make your kingdom hotter.

I promise - your temples, churches and cathedrals will be abandoned and forspoken

For the greatest sin of all times - that the heart of mine is now abandoned and broken.

How poetic and melancholic that, despite everything, the winter is coming.

Night becomes much longer and you may not survive until the morning.

There will be fewer unnecessary prayers and fewer praising words,

I welcome you to the new season that comes - the winter of no gods.

Good news - she’s dead!

But is it really?

Maybe this sounds silly,

Yet there it is - an empty bed.

Good news is that there’s going to be no more physical pain.

No more suffocation, gasping and all the sounds driving me insane.

Good news is that you’re now in a better place,

Where the smile can be sincere on your face.

Everything that happened to all of us was pure terror,

We tried our best but failed - an error after an error.

Everything good requires something bad,

So in our story, I guess it was my counterpart.

The only question left is what I will become:

A good witch with a broken heart will turn into a wicked one - step by step, part by part.

In every corner of my mind I hear no voices, no echoes, now there’s only silence.

I summon nights to my defense - me and insomnia as the strongest alliance.

I ran out of magic, all that is left for me is rationality and science.

While I try to heal - though it’s always easier to conceal - give my heart to a tin-man, so I wouldn’t feel.

Any cowardly lion would be much braver than me,

I wish someone had told me - there’s no option to flee.

Instead, here begins another show -

I will play the Scarecrow

They sang that “no one mourns the wicked”,

So be it, and let me be, at least now I can see

The yellow brick road, a path leading to the key,

Through agony, misery, grief - an endless sea,

I promise to you, Grandmother, I will return free.

Once I stand there, near your grave,

Better than I am now, I’ll become brave.

Hopefully I will not be crying there again,

Rather smiling, like the person who I really am.

For the time we’ll be apart from each other,

But I know, someday there’ll be laughter,

Because I promise to meet you sometime after.

If I didn’t have any friends, then all along, you were the only one,

If I had too many, you were the most important among everyone.

I’m lost in rhyming, in constant and desperate search for consolations,

I’m lost in words, thoughts, silence - they all seem like excessive revelations.

I heard a tale, that every person is given for a reason.

That every person brings a lesson to be learned,

I don’t know if this is rumor, legend, myth or true -

But I am who I am today because I knew you.

In this lifetime we will never cross our paths anymore,

I’m mourning over things I wish I could say afore.

I am as lost as I’m grateful and lucky,

That in my life I got to know you.

I am as lost as I’m grateful and lucky for the many things I’ve learned from you. You did a huge part!

Granny, you’ll always be a handprint on my slowly healing heart.

No one can claim whether I’ve been changed for the better,

Yet since I knew you - I know I have been changed for good.

I see you everywhere. In every single little thing.

I see you in the sky amidst the shining stars,

I see you even in between the fading ones.

It’s consoling to believe: you are in the heights,

Because then I could spend with you all the nights.

This slight hope lifts me up like helium,

Lowering my craving for taking lithium.

I can see you every time the moon overtakes the empyrean.

My biggest fear is that when time passes, you’ll wizen into oblivion.

Even when I wander around in a blissful monument valley,

I sincerely hope that I will meet or at least see you in the alley.

Not even a hint, the slightest bit I could get from you — this is the finale.

I see you every day in the gentle rays of the sun,

Afraid and ashamed to show what I’ve become.

All extant around is remnants and relics,

Will I ever be able to rise like a phoenix?

I remember you said that people should erect statues to honor others while they are alive.

So it’s quite agonizing and excruciating - building a statue, knowing that you are in the afterlife.

What is this echoing feeling in a monument valley?

Neither grief nor pain, but rather just a need to go to the abbey.

I would’ve bent the knee to the devil, death and myriads of gods,

If I only knew that they would grant you more survival odds.

I’ve been all around my mind - yearning for the lightest thoughts.

I see you in all the remnants and relics left afterwards.

Every single time I pick them up — I feel lumped out of words.

And I see you in the great eye of Jupiter —

Earth’s biggest messiah and executioner.

I surrender and merge with this failure of Mother Nature.

Remnants and relics are not meant to go in the empyrean,

I promise you, Granny, I won’t let them go into oblivion.

Every little thing you’ve been beholding is now an artifact to me,

I will put them in my memory box, so I can always go and see.

And it’s not the right time, not the right place, but who cares since we will never meet face to face?

Allow me to ask for one last thing from you —

A forgiveness for me and my mother, for us two.

I am sorry for all the bad and all the sad.

I am sorry for all the moments you won’t see.

I am sorry for all the time you were alone, without her and me.

You were often saying that God loves the Trinity -

It has taught us to try over again, until infinity.

We will try to live on, visiting you and knowing -

Scars are lightening and peace is coming.

Thank you for being always so much present, caring and loving,

I know you’re watching us from there and I know that peace is coming.

We’ll always remember your words - in this world all good deeds are always returning,

We’ll carry it throughout our lives, remaining assured and knowing - peace is coming.

You’ll be protecting us, veiled by the joyful, gorgeous, cheerful beams,

If you ever wish to see me - there is a place for you in all my dreams.

We will turn twenty-seven and fifty-two, but we will always be visiting the monument valley to see you.

We know you’ll forever be seventy-seven, constantly watching us through Aurora’s dance from heaven.