Pieces Of Ripped Hearts Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Traces of life are left scattered on the ground, strewn
about by winds of death's entrance into our world.

Taking down all barriers, crossing chasms of living,
just to take away the loves of our lives here in the land
of the living.

Not allowing anyone a choice in his selection, we are
ripped and torn apart by death's decisions alone, then
are left to pick up the pieces ripped from our hearts,
minds and souls.

No directions or help on how to find our way, there's no
turning back for any of us.

Going within, withdrawing from the edges of blackest life,
we fall and can't get back up.

Unless someone who has already experienced the tragedy
themselves comes along to reach out their hand and take
ours, supporting our beings and being there no matter what
when needed.

Days and nights blended together in episodes of crying
and many tears.

Nothing can be done, it all must be experienced in our
lives, even though we'd prefer to die ourselves and leave
this empty life.