My Love Viola Grey Poem by Saint Cynosure

Viola was a lovely girl,
her laugh was blatant funny.
All time spent inside her world,
made me richer than all of money.
All good things must end someday,
or so I've heard folks say.
The hardest truth to be believed,
is she would go away.
Leave me here a broken man,
sobbing on the floor.
If love will always feel like this,
than I don't want no more.
Is there a way a man like me,
can drink away his sorrows?
And if the pain returns again,
will I drink some more tomorrow?
All the people there for me,
don't know the words to say.
They've never had a love like her,
my love Viola Grey.