The Person Of Pain

I have seen pain and grieve
They look like my mother in a casket lying still
With cotton-stuffed nostrils
As though to ensure she stayed dead

I have smelt the smell of lost
It smells like the new fragrance she wore
The freshness of her smell in a loving hug was gone
A familiar strange fragrance to us all
We had to dispel same with that which we bought

I have seen the cruel hands of death
Clenched around my mother's neck till it stuffed her of breath
With a steel-like grip, dragging her to earth
Holding her hostage beneath
Leaving memories of her to roam; to torment the bereaved.

I have tasted from the bowls of pain
Long as you gobble, your thirst stays the same
I have eaten from the table of sorrow
Much as you may eat, the hunger grows
Even escape is capture
It's pointless making any efforts.
Pain of death is victory for the dead
But for the bereaved, it's pain in real