I know a woman named Grief
she's haunting, beautiful in a tortured way
we have a strange agreement
she visits me in my lonesome
and in return I give her my energy
This agreement works for the most part
but Grief can be selfish
without thought of how she affects me
and so sometimes when she is neglected
she will permeate in my day to day

In the song that I haven't heard in years
sometimes in a picture
of a time I wish hadn't past
Although it is not always fair
I understand Grief more than most
she cannot exist without my attention
and my memories cannot be remembered
without her holding my hand

Grief are the parts of love unspent
Tokens left over for a game that has been decommissioned
She clings to the parts of your heart
that deems business to unfinished
While you shut the door on Grief
and leave her alone in the cold night
I know her better than most
I speak for Grief at times
when her voice is coarse with pleading
I hold her hand as she did with mine
when all I knew was her