Fallen From Grace

Wondering around the cemetery a child's doll held close to my breast my aching heart shatters more and more as I ask myself, couldn't this all just be some sickening nightmare, that I am about ready to wake from?  I yearn to feel my child's warm hand closed tightly round my own, then perhaps I'll feel a bit more alive and not so empty and dead?  I look to the sky and see the clouds are a sinister grey, so I know it is in fact true... I am an angel fallen from grace left in the ashes of memories of what was and what should of been.  I crumple to my knees not even giving a damn that my dress shall be ruined in the mud and pouring rain.  I look to the heavens and scream until my voice is nothing, but a distant memory and all thats left is a fiery raw ache of what once was my voice.  I lay the doll down upon a   grave, bright green with spring and the sun's gentle kisses and press my trembling lips to the cold marble of a headstone and whimper indistinct words of how if I could I'd give my own life only to let you live once more.