Exile Among the Living

I leaned upon a branch I deemed my shield and stay,
But it snapped, crushing my bones along the way.
A towering roof I built within my trusting sight,
Crumbled down, turning all my affection into blight.
Woe to the crowd who view my bleeding scars as art,
Pouring their bitter blame into a wounded heart.
They cry: "Ungrateful!", but they never knew the cost,
Of a life bled dry, and the inner peace I lost.
Yet in the lands of the departed, pure fountains used to flow,
Healing my thirsty soul, easing every blow.
The light has vanished, the last reflection died away,
Leaving me in exile, wandering astray.
O you who said: "Within your palm lies my only cure,
You left, and no remedy can make this spirit pure.
A sacred trust upon my neck weighs heavy like a chain,
I strive to guard its memory through this crushing pain.
My torment is to love a shadow that withdrew,
And live like an orphan among a ruthless crew.

by Tulipsmile