Mistress of the dead

Her eyes stopped to cry

Mistress of the dead
Deep and torturous was her suffering
Long time crying of plaintive tears
Her beautiful eyes eroded by inhuman shades of illness
Every day by her side
Seeing her inevitable grief crushing her fragile soul
Holding her hand in thousands of dreamless nights
My mind sinking in ocean of madness
I'd give my all to redeem her from this horror
Of a torment nondescript
To take it away with a wings of darkest night
To never see those tearful waterfalls
To never hear her prayers to die painless
Her wretched exclamations
Now,
Instead of her shrieks and laments
Her grave whispering silent to my lonely steps in the snow
When I come to kneel for a moment near to her
To kiss her tombstone so cold and deeply quiet
Her eyes stopped to cry
Forever.
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