Consolation Poem by Sinashta, Sidra

What will come has come indeed,
And soon will be spreading its seeds.
For the man who shatters and bleeds,
Failure is what he can feel and feed.

A mournful moment has come to this chest,
To which it's no longer spirited nor in rest.
A troubled mind confused about what's best;
To remain in sorrow or forget and jest.

This's a word of truth yet a word of repose,
I shall dig to deep and your terror I expose,
Dor you I breathe and for you I depose
Your agony that's left chaos in such a pose.

But there's something in my anodyne,
That I can't ignite this candle of mine.
And can't forget what made me whine;
That your story in my poem is mere a line.

I know no more than this tranquil place,
When a sunbeam comes with an embrace,
I feel my eyes slip away of my weary face,
And remember that you're no longer my grace.