Don't know what to name my poem...

It's the cry that wells up

Deep inside

And you've just got to let it out

It's the phone call at midnight

You want to ignore

Cause you know by now what it's about

It's the dark black clothes

You wear like a shroud

To try to keep grief locked within

It's standing with family

And clasping their hands

While you all sing a burial hymn

It's seeing her lay there

So still and so cold

Surrounded by beautiful flowers

It's seeing him stay there

In suit and in tie

While the mourners all visit for hours

It's sitting in church on

A hard wooden bench

While he's talked about nice by a stranger

It's placing bouquets on

The casket once more

Before pallbearers leave the church with her

It's the harsh realization

That you've never seen

Your aunt or your cousin cry

It's standing at graveside

For one final time

And choking out final goodbyes