I N D E F A T I G A B L E

Rain falls. I find myself debating

how happiness comes, so defiant.

The coffin, closed tight, nailed,

lowers into dirt, dark beige.

Soft sobs sound, but I am deaf

to their suffering. I am failing

to find a reason to bleed

tears of my own when such a gift

plummets from the sky. Life

must end, but when the world, with me, can feel

sadness, it dulls the blade's edge.

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