mourning inspiration

the rain falls gently from the sky
you are not the only one to cry
do not fret the loneliness
for it will last but till you get some rest
running feet as lightning thunder
breathless, as your lunges go under
once upon a time your name was great
but that is all gone and drenched in hate
blame no one for the sorrrow you acquire
there are still people to you they admire

snowflakes are descending
from the white gates of heaven
and you are still running
every day from seven to eleven
but watch as the ground
is gently covered in snow
and the white crust envelopes you
embrace the truth you seek to know
and the truth alone, is 42