I keep telling myself I should be sadder,
but my exuberance is spilling over!
Is my gaurd, my wall, slipping?
Have I forgotten, I'm still in mourning?
It's been just two years and a quarter.
The pyre still burns steadily over.
Besides, why should I rejoice?
Yet, I can hardly still this voice!
Once more, a nothing will be unsung.
Just a verse, is not a song.