Cringing at the thought of dealing with your lossnWith each new day leading to more devastationnWaiting for the call I'm sorry...he's gonenAll that seems to be is sufferingnWeeping, frustration, maybe denialnShopping for casketsnVoid of real life when you're losing another'snBow your head and clear your thoughtsnThis will be a funeral marchnVoid of real life when losing another'snVictim to a heinous crimenWhy him? Torture. Bloodshed.nWhy him? People are sick and that wont changenRevolting actions lead to this painnBut to overcome a pain so fierce?nHow does one continue on in life?nOne just does, simply doesnNothing can pay back the price of a lifenThis is a black funeral marchnThis isn't the end