She is the lost key to a tomb of affections,
Longing to retain her memory of presence.
Would have rather replaced all my prior injections,
That altered her countenance of my existence.

That which keeps us both spiritually apart,
The grave we all must lay in at the end of days.
Born into the fading of her expression of love since the start.
Sensiblity suggests to meditate upon lingering scars.

Under exposure to exhibit the rebirth of my faith about to be told.
Expirate the retainment of solving the rate grief will create its stronghold.
Misleading to debate hopelessly without parental discourse.
Inclinations to rely on how I pray after witnessing my mothers corpse.

Rememberance of the days...