The first stage of grief,
Is a consummate thief,
That robs you of visions you sought,
It’s straight out the gate,
With denial of fate,
That poisons your rational thought.

The second stage burns,
As intensity yearns,
To ravage the depth of your soul,
It’s fiery hot,
Just an anger besot,
Hell bent on consuming you whole.

The third stage of grief,
Has you asking the chief,
Please summon a bargain with me,
My hand on my heart,
I’ll shoulder my part,
If you set all my agony free.

The fourth stage is such,
You feel it’s too much,
Depression invades every cell,
You cannot partake,
Your bitter heartache,
Has you lost in a merciless spell.

The final and fifth,
Is accepting the myth,
That hurt goes away for all time,
But I know the truth,
Pain’s stolen my youth,
Now it fuels all my rhythm & rhyme.

© The Complicated Bunny – 24 May 2021

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