and will surely test you with the loss of lives. I'll try to be patient and I don't know for how long the image of you being lowered down in the grave will haunt me. I don't know for how long the image of you lying in your grave would haunt me. I don't know for how long the fact that I wasn't there would haunt me. My mind would provide a zillion justifications but heart would suffer. I don't know for how long, as this world can easily deceive one in thinking that we are here forever. In this imperfect world, it was not meant to be. I just have prayers. Just prayers of a sickened, guilty and sinful heart. Even in your death you have given me hope. How much more selfless you could be? You've whispered that it is all going to end soon. Just hang in there for a little while before we meet again. Most probably it is just the voice inside my head. The mind is just playing its old games, trying to numb me to lessen the pain. Why am I even writing this? It gives the same old putrid smell of self praise but I want to. It is my homage. It is my confession.
